


Call Out My Name

by frenchkiss



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry Styles, Alpha drop, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst, Bonding, Face-Fucking, Falling In Love, Famous Harry, Fluff, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Famous Louis Tomlinson, Omega Louis Tomlinson, Prostitution, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:48:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 101,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29845191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchkiss/pseuds/frenchkiss
Summary: Apparently, it's bad PR to fall in love with the omega you hired to help you through your rut.Harry Styles begs to differ.A soulmate AU where two lovers find each other entirly by accident, featuring photoshoots, Gucci suits, too many takeaways, having sex and feeling sad, an alpha who feels lost, and the omega that finds him. It shouldn't be this easy, but it is.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Hailee Steinfeld, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 30
Kudos: 291





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I AM EXTREMELY NERVOUS TO POST THIS.
> 
> This fic was very much a ridiculous labour of love and it got out of hand, but what's new?
> 
> DISCLAIMER: this fic exists in a world where prostitution is entirely legal when using agencies for the purpose of helping alphas through ruts/omegas through heats. That doesn't mean this world is entirely sex work positive, but I am and I tried to encapsulate that as best as possible. I don't know anyone who works in the industry myself so if there's any issues/glaring errors feel free to let me know in the comments, I would really appreciate that to try and keep it as accurate as possible!!
> 
> This fic wouldn't exist without Ari @rainbwlouis so it's entirely her fault but I don't think she wants to apologise either. 
> 
> The amazing artwork for the fic was created by the incredibly talented Ai @brickredtoe and can be found on my twitter which is @lesbidirection and I'll put it in the fic when ao3 stops trying to sabotage me lmao

**_“Two souls but with a single thought._ **

**_Two hearts that beat as one”_ **

**_-_ ** **John Keats**

The alert on Harry’s phone is haunting him. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, then slams his hand against the steering wheel of his Range Rover. “Fuck, shit, wank, fuck, bollocks. _Fuck.”_

Fuck. 

He’s fucked. 

As if to taunt him, his phone chooses that exact moment to sync with his car speakers via bluetooth, and the reminder is read out in an infuriating tinny voice that only serves to make him growl louder. 

**_Reminder: 07 days until rut begins._ **

_“Fuck,”_ he yells even louder, even though there’s no one around to hear him, and then he does what he always does when he’s having a crisis. 

He calls Niall. 

A problem shared is a problem halved, after all. 

Plus, in his _humble_ opinion, this is _entirely_ Niall’s fault. 

“Niall,” he hisses down the phone. “I do pay you decent money, don’t I? Enough for you to do your job properly, I hope.”

Niall roars with laughter. “You pay me well enough, H. Why, what haven’t I done?”

“Oh nothing, just booked the most important photoshoot of my entire _career_ at the same time as my rut—no big deal,” Harry coos, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s next week, according to my calendar.” 

There’s silence from the other end, then Niall lets out a long slew of swear words. Harry hears him typing away at his keyboard rather frantically. “What the shitting hell?” he barks. “ _How_ has this happened? What the _shit_?”

“I know,” Harry shouts. “What do we do?”

“Good fucking god,” Niall wails. “Everything is in place for this fucking shoot. It’s all I’ve been working on for weeks, bro. And it’s your album cover! You can’t miss it because it’ll push the music video filming back and it’s been so difficult getting a full four days that Alessandro can do and it just can’t happen. It just can’t. I’m not risking anything that could push back your album release.”

“I might _have_ to, though,” Harry mumbles glumly. “I don’t have a choice…”

“Drugs?” Niall interrupts with a shout. “Are there drugs you can take that can delay it?”

“Well… yes but I’ve never used them before,” Harry stammers. “I mean, yeah, let’s look into it, but I’m pretty sure we’ve established before I can’t take them because of the asthma medication I’m on…”

“Or hang on,” Niall says, his typing getting loud again. “How long is your rut normally?”

Harry shrugs. “Like three days?”

“So you just run the risk of the last day having some crossover?”

“Yeah, but I can’t get on a plane while I’m in rut, Ni, for the love of god. Not even if it’s only the last day.”

“Leave it with me,” Niall says, then promptly hangs up. Harry sighs and slumps over his steering wheel, head in his hands. 

Sometimes having Niall as his manager is the best thing in the world, because they’ve known each other for pretty much their entire lives so Harry isn’t even embarrassed to talk about ruts with him. It’s not that he’s embarrassed anyway, but it’s absolutely one of his least favourite parts about being an alpha, the fact that twice a year he gets horny and rabid and wants to fuck everything with a pulse. 

Sometimes it sucks because Niall is the most beta of the betas; he’s married to one, he’s part of a family that hasn't been anything other than betas, and it fucking shows. He often forgets that things like ruts are even a thing, so when they do happen, it’s like it’s brand new information to him each time. 

He sighs, long and heavy, and then starts his car because he can’t sit and mope in a car park any longer. He sets up the sat nav and programmes it for home, then sets off on his hour or so long car ride home from today’s photoshoot. 

Niall calls back about ten minutes later. 

“How would you feel about hiring an omega to help you through your rut?” is what he opens with. 

Harry stalls his car. “I’m sorry, what?” he practically shouts as he hurries to restart it, then nearly breaks the gear stick with the force he uses to get it back into first. “Fucking hell, Niall, have you gone _completely_ insane?”

“You alright, H?” Niall cackles as Harry finally regains the ability to drive. “Okay, but hear me out please. I think this could work.”

“ _Niall.”_ Harry hasn’t ever been this stunned at one of Niall’s suggestions, and that includes the time he tried to get them to hitchhike to London when they were 14 for a Steps concert. “You better have a bloody good reason behind this suggestion, let me tell you that.”

“Well,” Niall starts, and he sounds alarmingly pleased with himself. “I’ve done a bit of research and I’ve found an agency for it. Super exclusive it is; the omega would sign an NDA and they get paid for their time handsomely. It seems like a great fit for your needs.”

“Yes, but what needs are you on about?” Harry asks, baffled. “My rut is still happening whether there’s an omega with me or not.”

“Isn’t it typically shorter when it’s with an omega?” Niall probes. “So hopefully you’d be finished and ready to fly on Friday as planned?”

“Well, I mean… Niall, I haven’t spent my rut with anyone else in _years._ I don’t know if being with an omega would shorten it by that much.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Niall asks, and Harry can tell by his tone that he already knows the answer. 

“Not yet,” Harry admits. “Fuck, Niall. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Harry, my gorgeous darling, it’s a brilliant idea,” Niall proclaims. “You get your rocks off, it shortens your rut, _and_ nobody is any wiser except you and me.”

Harry sighs. He’s been a while since he’s had sex, it’s true, and he wouldn’t be averse to the idea. He’d kind of made a pact with himself that he was going to stop sleeping around, but he’d told himself that when he was drunk at Niall’s wedding and feeling a bit mopey about being there alone, and to be fair to himself he has stuck to it up until now. 

It’s been a very long time since he’s spent his rut with an omega companion, especially since he went on anxiety medication a few years ago that reduced his ruts to only once, sometimes twice a year. This is the only rut he’s due to have for about nine months, so the next won’t be until next March. 

And Niall has a point—it’s well-known and accepted at this point that ruts and heats spent with partners shorten the amount of time spent in that state, which became even more accepted once the government introduced up to two days paid leave every three months for alphas and omegas to spend with their partners if necessary on top of standard Rut/Heat Leave. 

Harry doesn’t have a standard job by any stretch of the imagination, so this isn’t going to be easy. But he trusts Niall to make sure the appropriate documents are signed to keep the experience anonymous, and at this point he’s too wound up and nervous to say no. 

He can’t risk anything jeopardising the photoshoot because the whole thing has been so meticulously planned to a certain timeframe. The whole thing has been quite overwhelming in a way things haven’t been for a while, so he’s not surprised that he didn’t pick up on his rut coming. 

He can’t believe he’s about to agree to this. 

“I want two NDAs,” he stutters out. “One for the rut itself and one for the omega to sign long-term. And I trust you’re going to use an agency?”

“Atta boy,” Niall shouts proudly. “Of course there will be NDAs, mate. Bulletproof NDAs for something like this. And yeah, don’t you worry about that. And like I said, I’ve found the perfect agency. It’s super high end, super discreet.”

“God, I can't believe I’m doing this,” Harry mutters. He slows down so he can pause at some traffic lights and he catches a look at himself in his rear view mirror, and he shakes his head. His mother would kill him if she knew he was doing this. 

“I’m on the site now,” Niall tells him, “So if you’re having thoughts speak now or forever hold your peace.” He click-clacks away at his keyboard. “Do you want to have a look at a selection and take your own pick or do you trust me to choose for you?”

“God,” Harry moans again. “No, you pick. I can’t do it or I’ll chicken out.” He shakes his head even though Niall can’t see him. “You… I mean, you know my type as well as anyone.”

“I do, I do,” Niall agrees solemnly. “Male or female? Do you even have a preference on that?”

“I don’t want any say.” This conversation is really starting to stress him out now. “Just… you know me. Just go with your gut.”

“Sure,” Niall says, and as always he doesn’t press, which Harry always appreciates from home. “Leave it with me and I’ll email all the information over to you tomorrow morning when it’s all sorted.” More typing. “The only thing I need from you is an up to date sexual health screening. You got one of those?”

_God._

“Yeah,” Harry croaks. “I have one at home in my office somewhere from a few weeks ago.”

“Perfect,” Niall says. “If you can send that over when you get home, I’ll get it all finalised for you.” There’s a pause. “Hey, H. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You can say no now and we’ll both forget this conversation ever happened.”

“But what’s the alternative, Ni?” Harry asks, voice edging on desperate. “I’m not risking cancelling this so let’s just… let’s just do it and then I can’t wuss out of it, alright?”

“Good lad,” Niall says. “Don’t worry, H. It’ll be absolutely fine, I promise. When have I ever led you wrong? Hopefully never.”

At least ten times that Niall has led him wrong spring to mind, but he doesn’t say anything. “Thanks, Ni,” he says instead. “I truly don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”

“Book fewer photoshoots during your rut, probably,” Niall laughs. “Hey, are you on your way home now? How was today?”

Harry shrugs. “Fine. Successful. We’ve got six outfits lined up for next week and Ben is sending you over the pictures tonight. Alessandro wants them sent over by Friday.”

“Yeah, all sorted,” Niall says. “I’ll text you when I’ve signed them off, but I trust that you have made good choices and all. Not that it’s really anything to do with me.”

Harry smiles. He really doesn’t know where he’d be without Niall. Probably somewhere with limited creative freedom, which makes him shudder at the very idea. “Cheers, Ni. Here, I’ll let you get off for the evening, yeah? Give Hailee a squeeze for me.”

“Will do,” Niall says cheerily, “Night, babes, text me when you’re home.” 

He hangs up and Harry spends the rest of the drive home in a bit of a daze. 

He can’t quite believe he’s signed up for this and he can’t quite believe it’s all happened so quickly. 

_What the fuck is he doing?_

He knows Niall told him not to stress, but it’s definitely easier said than done. His mind feels like it’s racing at a thousand miles an hour for the rest of the drive home and when he finally gets back to his home, he goes straight into the kitchen and pours himself a stiff drink. 

For the rest of the week it’s pretty much all he can think about. What if the omega doesn’t warm to him and they have a miserable time? What if he’s forgotten how to have sex properly? What if he’s too rough, too needy, or even too _boring_ in bed? What if it doesn’t have the desired result and he ends up making them late for his own photoshoot, setting multiple people behind by weeks?

 _God,_ sometimes he feels like he shouldn’t even be considered an alpha when he’s so _bad_ at being one; but he is one and he’s got to suffer through his rut whether he’s happy about it or not, and it’s only three days of his life. It’ll be over before he knows it and then he’ll move on with his life, ready to find himself an omega to settle down with and pretend this never happened. 

That’s what he keeps telling himself anyway. 

On said day, Harry finds himself stress cleaning the flat for the better part of the morning. He’s antsy in the way he always is when he knows his rut is due, like his skin is too tight on his bones and he doesn’t feel quite like himself. 

He feels a bit like he’s in a daze, yet he’s running out of things to do to distract himself—his bags for the next two weeks are packed, meals for them to heat up and eat during his time in rut prepped, fresh sheets are on his bed, and all the rooms in his flat deep cleaned. 

It’s been so long since he’s spent his rut with an omega. In fact, he hasn’t been with one since Sixth Form, so he can’t help but speculate on what it’ll be like. It’s been a worry of his since Niall booked this that he’s going to get an omega who buys into his _lothario_ image, which makes him nervous. He hopes he doesn’t have someone who’s only doing this to say they slept with Harry Styles, either. 

He shakes his head, trying to shake that thought from his mind. He doesn’t even need to check with Niall that the NDAs will have been signed, so he tries to forget all about it because this exchange doesn’t need to be anything he doesn’t want it to be. 

It’s a totally legal, totally approved service that he’s paying for, and a discreet one at that, and it’s just to serve a purpose. It’s clinical and utilitarian and afterwards he doesn’t have to see or even think about this omega ever again. 

Then there’s a knock on Harry’s door and that’s when he smells him for the first time.

It’s the most incredible smell Harry’s ever smelt in his entire twenty-four years of life. 

It’s soft but it’s overpowering at the same time, like cakes baking in the oven, like being outside in the summertime, like walking into your house for the first time after a long trip away. 

It smells like… _home,_ which is stupid because it’s his home they’re in, but he can’t think of another word to use.

A primal snarl threatens to tumble out of him, but he forces it back down. For _fuck’s sake,_ he doesn’t have a clue who is outside that door, doesn’t even know yet if it’s a man or a woman, he doesn’t need to go all feral alpha and stupid on them. But he has to open the door, he _needs_ to see who this smell belongs to, because he wants to smell it every day for the rest of his life.

He opens the door and sees him.

The omega in front of him is male, that’s the first thing he notices. The second thing he notices is that he’s petite, shorter than him by a good bit and probably _just_ the right height to tuck under his arm, and slim. He’s wearing an oversized white hoodie over black Adidas leggings, has a duffel bag at his feet, and he looks _soft,_ that’s the only word Harry can think to describe him. He’s _pretty_ too, and he offers Harry a dazzling smile and a shy little wave.

“Hello,” he greets, holding out his hand for Harry to shake. “You must be Harry. My name is Louis.”

“Hi Louis,” Harry says, using all his self-control to keep his voice nice and level. “I am Harry, yeah.” _His hand is so small._ “Come on in.”

Louis nods and follows Harry inside the flat, stepping past Harry into the foyer while Harry deadlocks the door from the inside. “Nice place,” he remarks with a whistle. 

“I like it,” Harry replies dumbly, then clears his throat. “Sorry, like, I’m not trying to lock you in or anything. It’s just, like... “ He gestures vaguely to himself. “Security and all that.”

Louis nods. “I get it, don’t worry.” He digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “I, um, I have a few things I need to say before we get any further, if you don’t mind.”

Harry nods. “Sure.”

Louis clears his throat. “My name is Louis and I am your O-For-Hire for the period of your rut. You should have already received, signed, and returned a contract saying you’re happy with the terms and conditions of hire?” Harry nods. “Perfect. There are a few ground rules we ask you to follow. Kissing is okay, but bonding is an absolute hard no. If anything to that degree happens, you are legally responsible and in breach of contract; therefore, you may be arrested and subsequently charged. Am I clear on that?”

Harry wonders if his face shows how horrified he feels at the very idea. “I would never,” he gapes at him. “God, does that…?”

Louis shrugs. “Can’t be too careful in this industry.” He clears his throat. “While you’re in your rut state, I am happy to let you penetrate me and knot me as needed, but if you’re going to knot me you must wear a condom. I trust you to be clean and have returned proof of this along with the contract you signed?” Harry nods again. “Good. Do you want me to cook you food as well or do you have meals prepped in the fridge?”

Harry blinks at him. “I have meals prepped for us both. I didn’t think you’d want to cook.”

Louis shrugs again. “People expect different things from us during these visits. I just like to be clear.” He swipes his phone unlocked and opens an app for Harry to see. “My phone stays on the side of the bed at all times with this app open. If at any point I feel unsafe or like our activity needs to stop, then I will shout a command out that my phone will hear and my time with you is instantly terminated. Someone will come and assist me in leaving and you’ll still be charged for one hundred percent of my time. Is that clear?”

“Fucking hell,” Harry mutters, shaking his head. He appreciates that these disclaimers need to be said, but it makes him feel awful that Louis even has to say these things in the first place. “Of course, yeah, whatever you need.” He shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I’m usually, like, lucid enough during ruts anyway for you to be able to talk to me if I am doing something you don’t want, but yeah.”

Louis nods, just once. “Okay, thank you. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

“Are you okay with scenting?” Harry has to ask. Anything he can do to get more of that delicious scent, _honestly._ “And just generally, like, being held?”

“Scenting is fine,” Louis agrees. “Being held is also fine, but not to the point where, like, you stop me going for a wee or for a shower, or whatever.”

“No, of course not,” Harry says. “Okay, cool.” Silence lapses between them awkwardly for a moment before he speaks again. “I, um, I won’t do anything like that, I promise. I know you may very well have heard it all before, but I won’t. Despite how the media portray me, I think I’m actually pretty nice.”

That makes Louis crack a smile. “I was wondering when would be an alright time for me to mention that you’re _Harry Styles.”_

Harry laughs and waves awkwardly. “Yes, I am him.” Then he coughs. “Hope that’s okay.”

Louis snorts. “No, it’s awful,” he drawls, then his eyes flit up and down Harry’s body, drinking all of him in. “You’re hideous. It hurts my eyes.”

Harry snorts — he _likes_ an omega with a bit of humour and mirth to him. “I’m sure you’d also love to know that I have a really great personality too.”

Louis giggles into the back of his hand. “Oh, I’m sure you do, pop star.” He takes another step back. “Not gonna lie, you’re taller in real life than you look in your pictures.”

“I’m not even that tall,” Harry grumbles, fake offended. “How tall did you think I was?”

“Dunno, but look.” Louis steps closer and the top of his head barely touches Harry’s shoulder. “Maybe I’m just shorter than I thought I was.”

“I like your height,” Harry insists, then he curses himself internally. If that was an attempt at flirting, it was fucking hideous. 

_I like your height?_

Louis bursts out laughing. “Such an alpha compliment,” he chortles. “I think we’re going to have fun, you and I.”

“I hope so,” Harry admits. “I’m so sorry if I’m being a bit awkward, that was… a really weird thing to say, I do apologise.”

“Babe, one time an alpha said to me I reminded him of a squirrel and that my teeth were cute in a bid to get me to sleep with him.” Louis leans against the wall and waggles his eyebrows. “I think you’re fine.”

“Wow, okay.” Harry barks an awkward laugh, then tilts his head to the right, towards the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink or anything? Some food?”

Louis looks him up and down. “How are you feeling, like, within yourself?”

“Overall or in regards to my rut?” Harry asks cheekily. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Well, basically, I’m hungry and I’m gasping for a cup of tea but I don’t want to settle down to a nice plate of spaghetti bolognese only to end up getting fucked against the kitchen counter.”

Taken aback by his bluntness, Harry shakes his head wildly. “No, bloody hell, no. We have time.”

“Yeah?” Louis tilts his head to one side, questioning. “Do you feel like you’re, like, good to cook or do you want to order in?”

“I’m pretty alright now, just feeling a bit antsy,” Harry admits. His fingers are itching to touch so he links them behind his back. “Got a couple of hours to go before it properly kicks in, I reckon.”

Louis nods. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet,” Harry says. “I was waiting for you to get here so we could eat together. Then I know we’re both well fed before… you know.”

Louis giggles and Harry’s heart feels happy. “Come on then,” he says, mirroring Harry by tilting his head towards the kitchen. “Let’s get some dinner and then we can cuddle for a bit, loosen you up, yeah?”

It’s only a little bit awkward as Harry sets about cooking them dinner. It’s nothing fancy, just bacon and eggs, but it’s good, hearty food that’s not difficult to cook. They eat on their laps while an episode of _Schitt’s Creek_ plays on the screen of Harry’s ridiculously large telly, but Harry barely tastes his food, too busy trying not to listen to the frankly _obscene_ noises Louis makes.

“These are some of the best eggs I think I’ve ever had,” Louis remarks, nudging his foot against Harry’s. “If they’re anything like the sex, I’m in for a good couple of days.”

Harry chokes on a forkful of sausage. “Um…”

Louis giggles again, rolling his eyes as Harry thumps himself on the chest. “What, you never heard the word _sex_ before?”

“ _Hey,_ ” Harry whines, nudging him back. “You caught me off guard, that’s all. It’s quite… it was forward, that’s all.”

Louis snorts. “In the nicest way possible, babe, I didn’t come around just for your eggs. Although maybe you’ll find me here again, waiting outside your door for another plate.” His eyes go wide. “In a non-creepy way, of course.”

“Is there a non-creepy way to come back to my home and beg for my eggs?” Harry asks, one eyebrow raised, which has them both dissolving in a fit of giggles. Louis scrunches up his face when he giggles, his little hand covering his mouth, and it’s so endearing that Harry finds himself wishing he wasn’t going into rut at all. He wants to have sex with this omega - _boy,_ does he want to—but he wants to spend more time with Louis like this.

He wonders if Louis may stay a bit after his rut finishes.

He takes Louis’s empty plate from his lap and carries it to the kitchen, making quick work of stacking the dishwasher so the washing up doesn’t just sit there for the next few days. As he rinses off the frying pan he realises just how warm he’s starting to feel, the telltale ache in his belly creeping in, and he knows he hasn’t got long, maybe an hour or so now. He’s antsy in a way that doesn’t just feel like pre-rut jitters and he doesn’t know _why,_ but then suddenly he catches a whiff of his new favourite smell and he shudders, almost jumping when Louis rests a hand on the small of his back.

“I can smell you’re getting close,” he murmurs to Harry, wrapping both his hands around one of Harry’s wrists. “You smell incredible.”

Harry’s alpha preens at that. “What do I smell like to you?” he asks, voice like gravel, so deep it almost startles him. He needs _more,_ needs to be touching Louis more than just hands on his wrist. 

Louis takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. “Like… cinnamon. Like a fresh pumpkin chai latte or something. And pine trees.” He tugs at Harry’s arm. “Come in here, yeah? Let’s just cuddle for a bit and you can scent me, how does that sound?”

Harry nods dumbly. He’s never been with an omega this forward in his life. “Yeah,” he croaks, then lets Louis guide him back to the couch, where he nudges Harry onto the corner side so he can climb into his lap, settling between his legs. Harry’s arms immediately wrap themselves around Louis’s middle and he buries his nose straight into the crook of his neck.

“You smell so fucking good,” he grunts, a smile tugging at his lips as Louis preens, clasping his hands around Harry’s larger ones. They couldn’t be pressed any closer together if they tried. “God, so fucking good.”

Louis giggles and preens at the same time, letting his head go floppy so Harry can rest more comfortably against him. His hands tighten the more Harry scents him and pretty soon they’re both moaning, Louis in pleasure and Harry possessive. 

“You’re gonna feel so good inside me,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s ear. “So big and thick, and you’ll hold me down with your strong arms too, won’t you? God, so hot.”

The fact that he’s probably said that to a bunch of other alphas turns Harry’s stomach a bit, and he tightens his grip on Louis even more. “Say my name,” he commands, voice edging on too much. “Say my name and kiss me.”

Louis turns in his lap and cups his face in his hands, barely waiting a second before he’s leaning in and kissing him. Harry kisses him back with possessiveness and bite, arms circling tight around his waist. He can’t believe he’s gone so long without an omega, not when they smell and feel and taste this good, so he’s turned on just from kissing. 

He presses him into the sofa and hovers over him, pinning his wrists above his head. They kiss for a long time and Harry can’t get enough already because Louis smells… well, he smells fucking dreamy.

He smells like soft linen and cotton candy, like icing and fruity cocktails and everything Harry associates with feeling happy and content. He smells like warm weather, like rain at the end of a bright sunny day, pink wine and fresh bread and peach fizz. He smells like pure joy, like someone who is in love with life and someone people love to have around. 

If he was coherent enough to record his thoughts somehow, he’d consider writing about how the omega tastes like strawberries on a summer evening and how his breathy moans and gentle grunts sound just like a song.

It’s a smell that’s sending him deeper and deeper, edging him closer and closer to his full rut-like state, sending him near feral with how headey he feels with it. He can’t get enough and he finds himself growling into the kiss, unable to _breathe_ with how much he wants to make this omega his. 

But it doesn’t feel like a want, it’s a _need._ And he can’t get his head around this feeling when he’s known this omega less than an _hour,_ for fuck’s sake. 

“Take me to bed, alpha,” Louis gasps suddenly against his lips, blinking up at him coyly. Harry’s stomach clenches possessively. 

“Say my name,” he growls again. “Don’t call me alpha. I wanna hear you say my _name.”_

“Harry,” Louis gulps, licking his lips and going tense as Harry practically rips the T-shirt from his body. “Harry, please…”

His skin is golden and glistening under the lights of his bedroom, a gorgeous tan colour that looks perfect in his crisp white sheets. His scent is only getting stronger and it’s _intoxicating,_ and Harry can tell that he’s barely got any time left before he’s fully into his rut. 

He needs this omega _now_ and he needs him to be his. 

Like most of his ruts, he can’t really remember many of the details. He remembers ripping the trackies that Louis came wearing clean off and burying his face between his cheeks almost instantly, letting himself get lost in the smell and the taste of his slick, rich and musky. He remembers flipping Louis onto his stomach and fucking him for what felt like hours, his knees and hips burning from the speed and intensity of it all. 

He remembers Louis slicking a condom onto his cock before sinking down onto him and bouncing, riding Harry until his knot popped. He remembers waking up and finding Louis asleep but, unable to control himself, he pushes back inside the omega’s spent little body and fucks him back awake. He remembers watching in awe as Louis sucked him off to _two_ orgasms, not stopping even after Harry had jizzed all over his face. 

It’s the safest and most in control he’s ever felt in a rut in his _life._

When Harry wakes up the following day and realises he’s out of his rut, he scrubs a hand over his face and breathes a sigh of relief. Waking up after a rut always feels like a breath of fresh air.

And if the time and date on his phone are correct, he’s finished earlier than he’d even anticipated. His flight to the States doesn’t leave until just after 5pm, so he’s got the best part of the day to chill and hopefully spend some more time with Louis. 

And then it hits him like a freight train.

_Louis._

He rolls over carefully, not wanting to wake him if he’s still there, which he _very_ much hopes he is. 

He is still there, fast asleep, looking like a golden vision against Harry’s pillows. He looks even younger in sleep, even softer, and Harry’s gaze immediately falls to the bruises on his shoulders and chest. There’s a pang of something he can’t explain in his stomach—guilt? Possessiveness? Lust? He finds himself wondering if there’s any more marks further down, whether his fingertips left bruises on his hips, if his mouth left lovebites on his thighs.

He tucks his blanket up under his neck and pointedly doesn’t check. 

His rut hasn’t been over that fast in years and he has to give credit where credit is due, and that’s to this omega fast asleep next to him. He can’t remember the last time his rut took so little time, nor has he ever felt so looked after, so cared for during one. 

Ruts are usually seen as something purely biological, something that can’t be helped and something that turns alphas into aggressive, over-protective brutes. But Harry doesn’t believe that, especially not of himself, because ruts make him feel more vulnerable than anything. He hates the idea that he’s not in control and reduced to something primal and he’s always hated the idea of getting an omega involved, especially one he doesn’t know that well. 

But Louis was _good._

Louis was gentle, willing, and wonderful. He let Harry kiss him and scent him as he needed and he was able to knot him too. He vaguely remembers holding the omega closer to his chest as he came again and again, and even though the memory is hazy it’s enough to make Harry smile softly into his pillow. 

He didn’t even protest when Harry woke him up begging for more, and he made sure that Harry was eating and drinking throughout. He was the perfect omega to spend a rut with. 

And even though the room smells a bit disgusting, like sweat and semen and generally like two people have been fucking like rabbits in here for the past two days, the core scent that Harry already knows is intrinsically Louis, remains the strongest. 

It’s going to be hard to let a scent like this go, that’s for sure. 

After a few moments of Harry just watching him (in a non-creepy way, of _course)_ Louis starts to stir. He lets out a long breath and then blinks a few times, stretching out underneath the duvet before he focuses his sleepy gaze on Harry. 

“Oh, hi.”

“Hi,” Harry croaks. Louis continues to stretch and tilts his neck back and Harry can see more bruises on his neck, marks from his own mouth. It almost makes him salivate. 

“Were you watching me sleep?” Louis asks in a heavy voice. 

“What? _No.”_ Harry tries to laugh it off awkwardly but he doesn’t think he’s fooling anyone. He’s certainly not fooling himself. “No, I just… I just woke up too.”

Louis grins impishly. “I’m joking. It’s actually quite normal for you to feel a bit protective and like you want to watch me after a rut.” He reaches forward and touches Harry’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

Harry leans into it. “I feel good,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember the last time I felt so refreshed after a rut.”

“ _Well.”_ Louis pretends to flip his hair over his shoulders smugly. “That’s because you weren’t spending them with me.”

Harry laughs awkwardly. He wasn’t spending them with anyone at _all,_ which means he’d usually come out of them feeling irritable and exhausted. “Exactly. And I’m not gonna lie, Louis, you were really great. You made me feel so looked after and satisfied, which is exactly what I needed.”

Louis grins and ducks his head. “Well, shucks. You better leave a five star review like that on my page.”

Harry’s face falls. “Right.” He clears his throat and rolls over, pretending it’s because he wants to grab his phone but really he wants to hide his face. “Because this is… right.” 

“Harry?”

“Do you want breakfast?” Harry asks, because if he doesn’t change the subject he’s worried he’s going to say something he regrets. “I can make you some bacon and eggs again.”

Louis looks like he wants to say something, but instead he just nods. “That would be lovely, Harry,” he says softly. “Technically you’ve got me booked until one o’clock.”

Harry nods and scrabbles to get out of bed. He’s naked and it makes him feel slightly awkward, but then he remembers that Louis’s just spent the past few days impaled on his dick, so he tries to quash it down and move through into the bathroom. 

He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror and he’s shocked at how… well, how _not_ like shit he looks. Ruts usually leave him feeling drained and looking like shit with dark circles under his eyes and horrible clammy skin, but not today. He’s still in need of a good shower, but he can’t deny he feels much better today than he was expecting to. 

There’s a lot to be said about spending your rut with an omega, clearly. 

_As long as that omega is Louis._

“Just gonna have a shower, alright?” he calls through the closed door. Louis calls back an _okay,_ so he turns the water on as high as it’ll go and steps inside, letting his head fall back against the wall. 

_What the fuck?_

He tries to shake his stupid needy thoughts off as he washes himself, letting the warm spray soothe the tension in his muscles. He washes his hair and once he’s out he gives his teeth a good brush, taking care to make sure he looks good when he leaves the bathroom, for no reason other than that he’s spent the last few days not looking after himself properly. 

_Yes. That’s the reason._

Once he’s out the bathroom, Louis slides past him and heads inside to shower himself. Harry puts on clothes and heads into the kitchen, absolutely desperate for a cup of coffee. He needs to feel normal again and coffee seems like a good place to start. 

Harry makes them breakfast and they make very basic conversation while they eat. In all honesty, he’s a little lost for words because he isn’t sure why he feels so shitty about the idea of Louis leaving him. All he can focus on is Louis’s scent. 

It was incredible before his rut and he’d put him smelling so _good_ down to him being so close to going under, but he thinks he might smell even better now. He can’t get enough of it and the fact that he’s leaving soon makes Harry’s head spin a little bit. 

But he can’t stay forever and eventually Louis’s picking up his bag and making his way towards the door. 

“Well,” he says, turning to Harry and offering a small wave. “Thank you for choosing me as your O-For-Hire. Don’t forget to leave me a good review on our website and if you ever need to use our services again, don’t forget you’ll get a 10% discount next time.”

Harry would pay ten times his original payment if it meant he got to spend every rut in the future with Louis, but he’s not going to say that out loud. He just nods instead. “Thanks, Louis. For everything.”

Louis leans forward, bounces up on his tiptoes and presses a quick kiss into Harry’s cheek. “Goodbye, lovely Harry.”

“Bye, Louis.” Harry watches him walk down the corridor and when he’s in the lift and on his way out of there Harry slams his front door shut and bolts it, then buries his face in his hands. 

Brilliant. 

Perfect. 

His rut finished in good time, Louis has gone, and now he can get ready to go to America and get on with his life. 

That’s exactly what he wanted. 

So why does he feel like shit?

*

The next two weeks are… well, not good for Harry. 

Realistically he has a lot to look forward to over his two weeks in the States. They kick it straight off with his photoshoot for the album, which is two days of Harry wearing some of his favourite outfits that he’s ever been offered and using fun, bright coloured backdrops to showcase them. It’s exactly the kind of photoshoot he loves to do and this is something he’s been working up to for months now, but he just feels _off._

He can’t explain why he feels so off, but he puts on a brave face and greets everyone warmly, but the person he wants there isn’t there. 

_Why would he be here? What’s wrong with you?_

He just can’t get Louis out of his head from the moment Louis leaves his flat. He’s thinking about him as he boards his plane, he’s thinking about him instead of listening to Niall rabbit on about the itinerary for the next couple of days, and he’s thinking about him when they get to their hotel in LA. 

He thinks about him in the shower and he thinks about him as he collapses into bed, and hopes and prays he’s able to just sleep it off. It’s only because he can still smell Louis’s scent on him a bit, surely?

Then he wakes up the next morning and realises he still feels like shit. 

He has no idea what’s wrong with him. He hasn’t ever been so caught up on a one night stand before. In fact, he can’t even remember feeling this _intensely_ about anyone he was seeing, let alone someone he just fooled around with once. 

It is different when you spend your rut with someone and he knows that, but he doesn’t recall ever feeling like this before. He racks his brains trying to think of any examples his alpha friends have ever given him of times they’ve felt this attached to an omega like this, but he can’t. He feels like an idiot, _honestly_. 

But he can’t dwell on feeling like shit for too long because he has too much to do today, too much riding on this photoshoot for his _album cover,_ for fuck’s sake, that he can’t let himself get in his head. He needs to _focus_.

The day starts with a meet-and-greet with all the people involved in the shoot and then he’s straight into it, first to wardrobe and then to make-up. 

His make-up artist, a young omega called Ellie that he’s not met before, is very professional at the beginning as she starts misting the foundation onto his face. But as she moves on to his eyebrows, she starts to lean back, like she’s scared to get too close to him, which isn’t ideal when someone’s doing your makeup. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles as they accidentally bump arms. “I just didn’t know and I’m trying to keep a distance so you don’t pick up too much of my scent.”

Harry frowns, his brows furrowing. “Sorry, what?”

“That you’d, um.” Her face is bright red by this point. “That you’d _bonded_ recently.”

Harry flinches back and he barks out a hollow, awkward laugh. “ _What?_ I’m not… I’m not bonded. What the hell?”

“You’re not?” Ellie looks genuinely taken aback, brows raised in confusion. “But you… sorry, I know this is kind of weird but you… gosh, the smell of omega on you is like… well, like you’re newly bonded.”

“I’m not bonded,” Harry says again, voice rough. “I’m, um, I’m freshly out of my rut, if that could be it.”

“Oh,” she says, still sounding a little shocked, but then she steps closer to him coyly, leaning across him to reach something from her trolley while also making a point to press her breasts against his chest. “Well, that’s… that’s good.”

“I did spend it with my omega though,” Harry says loudly, anxious to nip whatever this is in the bud right away. “My omega who’s, like, back in London.”

“ _Oh,”_ she exclaims, taking a step back like she’s been burned. “I see. Well. I’ll just…”

The rest of getting his makeup done is rather awkward, so Harry’s rather relieved when he’s moved onto his hair stylist. There’s been a clear vision from the beginning about how he’s going to look for this shoot—classic makeup, a simple, but sharp quiff in his hair, and they’re going to let the clothes do the talking. 

One of his favourite things about his job is getting to play dress up and he feels so privileged and grateful to have access to some of the most luxurious and exclusive wardrobes in the world. Since befriending Alessandro, the creative director at Gucci, he’s been beyond blessed with garments he could only dream of, and the unique pieces that have been selected for this shoot are enough to make his mouth water. There’s contrasting colours, loads of different textures and fabrics and styles that would probably look ridiculous if they weren’t styled by Gucci, and that’s exactly what Harry wants for this cover. 

It’s a very hectic day from start to finish, coupled with the fact that he’s jetlagged to fuckery, and by the end of it, Harry’s so exhausted he can barely see. Their photographer asks if he wants to go over the shots there and then but Niall, bless him, politely declines and takes Harry out to his favourite Californian restaurant for pizza instead. 

“You look like you need several of these,” he tells Harry as the waitress brings two large bottles of Budweiser to their secluded table. Harry hadn’t even seen him order. “How are you feeling? Jet lagged?”

Harry nods and takes a huge swig of his beer. Niall wasn’t wrong and it goes down like a treat. He’s definitely having another after this. “Dude, I feel like this is the most jetlagged I’ve been in years. I think it’s the overhang on my rut, to be honest. Didn’t really get a lot of sleep.”

“Oh yeah,” Niall says. “How was it in the end with that omega? Did you like who I picked for you?”

_Maybe just a little bit too much._

Harry takes another generous swig of beer. “He was great,” he admits honestly. “I couldn’t have asked for a better omega, honestly.”

Niall grins over the top of his beer. “That’s awesome,” he says, looking rather proud of himself. “Would you be open to using that service again if needs be?”

_I’d be open to sleeping with Louis again._

He doesn’t feel ready to admit that out loud to himself yet, let alone Niall, so he opts for a casual shrug. 

“Maybe. I think it’s good to know that it worked out for me if push comes to shove.” Another swig of beer. “But yeah. It worked well. I liked my omega a lot.”

Niall eyes him suspiciously for a second, but he doesn’t ask any more questions. If he noticed Harry’s Freudian slip, he certainly doesn’t mention it, and Harry makes sure he’s quick to change the subject by bringing up Niall’s beloved golf club and how he wanted to get tickets for their next tournament. 

They don’t stay out long because by the end of their meals they’re both so sleepy they can barely keep a conversation going, so they head back to the hotel. Harry doesn’t even bother to shower or attempt unpacking; he topples straight into bed and falls into a restless, dreamless sleep. 

He wakes up feeling even more tired the next morning, but he pushes through because he can’t wait to see the photos from yesterday and then get any retakes done and out of the way. 

He’s so blessed to have the most incredible team because the photos turn out exactly as he wanted them to. There’s an obvious choice for his album cover and then him and the team pick several more for social media, posters and merchandise, and for the album booklet. 

It’s probably his favourite shoot ever and he’s not ashamed to say he thinks he looks bloody incredible in every shot. It’s a real testament to the team he works with and the fact that he’s able to put out an album that he’s this proud of at the beginning of the re-emergence of his music career, and it feels so bloody incredible to be doing so. His music is something that’s sat on the back burner for such a long time, but now he’s becoming Harry Styles, the Artist, rather than Harry Styles, the X-Factor Kid, and that feels long overdue and fucking _awesome._

And thankfully, he doesn’t have to do a lot for the rest of his time out there in America. They’re out there for two weeks because they’ve ended up having to do a lot of meetings spaced out with various different people, like his merch team one day and his American agents the next, but he’s actually got a lot of free time. 

So the following days in LA pass in a daze. He sits through some meetings, has some business lunches and attends a couple of events for friends out there, but his heart isn’t in any of it. He gets through it because he has to, but each night he goes back to his hotel room and struggles to sleep because he can only focus on one thing. 

All he can think about is Louis. 

He wonders what Louis is doing right now. He wonders if he got a good night of sleep the night before, if he enjoyed his dinner, and what he’ll be having for breakfast. 

He wonders what he’s doing right now. Is he in Tesco doing his weekly food shop? Is he at the pub with his friends? Is he sitting at home by himself? Is he working?

He can’t help but wonder if he’s sleeping with other alphas, except he doesn’t so much wonder because that’s Louis’s _job_ . He _will_ be sleeping with other alphas and Harry feels like he could punch a hole in the fucking wall if he thinks about it too much. 

He wonders if Louis’s thinking about Harry even a little bit. 

It’s supposed to be a fun trip, but it’s anything but fun. He’s never been so homesick in his entire life, not even when he was seventeen and being paraded around the States by his first management company for the first time. 

And this time he’s surrounded by people he loves—Niall’s there with him and he’s spent a lot of time with his friends, friends he hasn’t seen in months—but he’s never felt more alone. 

By the time he lands back in the UK, he’s exhausted. He heads straight home and immediately orders an obscene amount of takeaway from his favourite restaurant, then has a long shower while he waits for it to arrive. He eats it in his pants on the sofa and goes straight to bed without unpacking anything. 

The bed sheets still smell a bit like Louis. He sleeps better than he has in a few weeks and he wakes up the following morning with a raging hard-on, which he pretends is just because he feels more comfortable in his own bed rather than any random hotel bed. 

And if he starts the morning by jerking off with his face buried in the pillow on Louis’s side of the bed then nobody has to know but him. 

He strips the bed and then throws the soiled sheets into the washing machine, then takes a long shower, washing the embarrassment and confusion off of him. 

_Enough is enough_ , he decides. 

So once he’s dressed and he’s had his second cup of coffee, he makes a call. 

“Niall,” he says into the phone, his tone on the edge of being a bark. “Niall, I need the biggest favour ever.”

“Sure, Haz,” Niall says merrily. If he can sense anything wrong in Harry’s voice he doesn’t pander to it. Harry can picture him sitting in his giant office, feet kicked up on the desk, wearing a hoodie and trackies because nobody can tell him what to wear when he’s working from home. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to first of all never mention this again,” Harry says through gritted teeth. “But I need you to please get in touch with that agency where you got me that omega from and… and rebook him.”

“Really?” To his credit, Harry knows there’s no judgment in Niall’s tone, just friendly curiosity. “I thought that was just a one night only kind of deal.”

“So did I.” Harry trusts Niall with his life, but he doesn’t offer anything more than that. He wants to keep… whatever this thing with this omega is close to his chest. “But I just… it’s a self-preservation thing, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Niall says simply, and Harry can already hear him tip-tapping away at his keyboard. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll put in a call to them.”

“For as soon as possible, please,” Harry says, cringing at how desperate he sounds. Might as well go the whole hog. “And Niall? If he’s fully booked or whatever, you can offer double pay. Use my personal account if that’s easier.”

“Okay,” Niall says again, carefully glazing over the odd request. He’s the only other person with access to Harry’s bank account, with a card that he only ever makes purchases on with Harry’s permission. There’s only been a few times where he’s used that account over their usual kitty. They didn’t even use his personal account when they booked Louis the first time. “Call you back in a mo.”

The line goes dead and Harry lets out the breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. 

He’s laid his hand out and placed his bets. 

And now all he can do is wait. 

It’s twelve minutes later that Niall calls back. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever answered a call quicker in his life. 

“Christ, H, the phone didn’t even ring,” Niall roars with laughter when Harry shoves the phone to his ear. “You haven’t been this horny since you presented.”

“Shut up,” Harry snaps, but he’s laughing. He’s acting like a total knothead and they both know it. “What did they say?”

“They said they don’t do repeat clients very often unless the omega agrees with it,” Niall tells him, and Harry’s heart sinks. “So they contacted the omega in question and they said they’d get back to me when they heard from him. They said if I didn’t hear from them by the end of today it would be a no-go.”

Harry lets out a long sigh. “Okay, that’s fair enough, I guess. Thanks for trying, Ni.”

“I’m not finished,” Niall says coyly, then pauses for dramatic effect. “They said if I didn’t hear by tonight it was a no-go, but they put me on hold while they gave him a call to check, and he agreed.”

“He agreed?” Harry breathes out, relief running from his head to his toes. “He… he agreed?”

“Yes, you knothead, he agreed,” Niall chuckles proudly. “Can I have a thank you, perhaps?”

“Thank you, Niall, my bestest of best friends.” Harry makes a mental note to send him a crate of beer to his house as an extra thank you. “Light of my life, apple of my eye…”

“Yeah, alright.” Niall laughs even louder. “Don’t you want to know when?”

“When?” Harry asks.

“Tomorrow,” says Niall gleefully. “Tomorrow evening. I’ll confirm the time with you in the morning, they’re going to email a confirmation email and new contract over soon. Is that alright, Haz?”

“Perfect, that’s bloody perfect,” Harry says, nervous and delighted in the same breath. “Thank you Niall, you’re the best. No better manager exists in the world.”

“I know, I’m fantastic,” Niall drawls. “Anyway, I’ll be in touch when I know more. Have a lovely rest of your day off and spare a thought for us hard at work.”

“Take the rest of the day off if you want,” Harry insists. “You must be jet lagged. I sure as shit am.”

“I’m booking your hotels for the press tour, idiot,” Niall tuts. “But after that I might clock off early, spend some time with my wife rather than you for a change.”

“Sounds lovely,” Harry grins, and he means that. He’s so appreciative to have someone like Niall who works as hard for him as he does, but he knows the hours aren’t always the best. “Give her a hug from me, tell her I miss her.”

“Will do, H.” Niall’s back tapping away at his keyboard, possibly trying to rush getting these hotels booked so he can, in fact, have some time away from his desk. “I’ll text you when I hear anything further about your little omega friend, okay?”

_Not my friend._

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry says, a little distracted as he looks around his flat and sees that it’s in disarray. There’s unpacked bags still piled in the hallway, laundry to be done, and a bowl of rotting fruit that he forgot to throw out on the kitchen counter, which makes him wrinkle his nose. “Hey, sorry, did you schedule my food shop delivery to come today?”

There’s a pause and then Niall swears. _“Fuck._ I knew I’d forgotten something, I’m so sorry, H. I’ll do it now.”

“No, no, don’t worry if you haven’t,” Harry says quickly, an idea springing to mind all of a sudden. “I’ll take a walk to Sainsbury’s myself, I don’t mind.” He chuckles. “I think it might do me some good actually.”

“Sure,” Niall says. “Sorry, mate, completely forgot with the jetlag and everything.”

“Mate, it’s fine,” Harry laughs. “You’re my manager, not my wife. I fancy a walk anyway.”

Niall roars with laughter again. “True, true. Speak to you later, mate.”

The line goes dead again before Harry can even say goodbye. He smiles to himself, grateful to have a friend like Niall. He’s professional when he needs to be, but their relationship hasn’t really changed from when they were teenagers, when they paired Harry up with the new kid from Ireland on the first day of Year 6, and they’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since. 

Niall wants nothing but the best for Harry and that’s abundantly clear in the way he manages Harry’s life. He’s his manager but he’s also his best friend, so he has the perfect balance between being able to tell Harry when he’s being a knothead while also making sure he’s looked after, comfortable and isn’t losing his mind like he’s been at risk at doing in the past. 

Harry’s rise to fame wasn’t exactly a normal rise to fame. His immediate success came from auditioning for _The X Factor_ at the tender age of 16, when his fresh-faced, boyish charm captured the hearts of the nation. He didn’t win but he came a modest third, then went on to release two singles that soared to the top of the UK and US charts. 

From there, everything got a little bit much very quickly. He turned 17 and was sent over to America to try and “break the States,” as it were. He sang on dozens of talk shows, radio stations and even SNL, and at first it was amazing. It was exciting and exhilarating and he was making more money than he knew possible, able to pay off his mum’s mortgage before he even turned 18. 

But then things began going downhill. He couldn’t record his album like his record label wanted him to because he was exhausted and overworked and he desperately missed his mum and his sister and his friends. People didn’t seem interested in his music anymore, they only seemed to care about the older omega women he was rumoured to be going out with, and he ended up being sent back to the UK, his tail between his legs and a mediocre EP that barely scraped into the single figures of the charts. 

Back in Cheshire, he spent months doing nothing but feeling sorry for himself, unable to find any motivation to get off his arse and write any more music. He spent the best part of half a year hiding in his mum’s house, playing XBox and stress-baking and drinking too much and generally moping. 

Until Niall got involved. 

Niall had been the kick up the arse he needed to get out of his funk. He had been there all along, taking him on drink-for-drink and wiping away the tears and playing double-player with him on many a game, but after a while he, like Harry’s mum and sister and everyone close to him, couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Harry,” he’d said one day, carefully setting the controller away from him before they could start a new game. “You’re better than this.”

“What?” Harry had furrowed his brows. “I just won the last round, what are you talking about?”

“No, mate,” Niall said, and he’d sounded almost upset. “Better than _this_.” He gestures between Harry, the telly, and the jumbo bag on Doritos between them. “This isn’t a way to live, Harry. Not for you.”

“I’m fine, Niall,” Harry grunted. “Here, just start a new game, come on.”

“No,” Niall said gruffly. “I can’t keep watching you self-destruct, H. We need to talk about this, like, properly.”

Niall was the one that forced Harry to confront his problems and he’s stuck by him ever since. He was the one who helped him draft the email that said he was withdrawing from his first record label. He was the one who took him on as the first client in the aptly named Niall Horan & Representatives, a company he bought the license for after a pint too many one Friday night, and he was the one who started sending emails out to other record labels, asking if they wanted to take Harry Styles on. 

He didn’t end up getting another record deal until a few years later, but in that time his acting and modelling career took off and made him practically a household name, ever since Christopher Nolan of all people recognised his name and took a punt on letting him audition for his film, and suddenly he was starring in a Hollywood blockbuster. 

Following the success of that film, he’s gone onto star in six more, and in between filming he’s been able to star in ad campaigns for multiple fashion houses, walked runways for Gucci and Lanvin, and now he’s just signed the five-year contract of his dreams with Gucci as the face of their spring-summer collections and two of their fragrances. 

It’s not gone too badly for him, all things considered. 

His first ‘real’ album launched when he was 21, a self-titled debut that wasn’t all that hotly anticipated given his rocky start, but one that shot to the top of the charts and received praise from everyone from _Rolling Stone_ to _Billboard._ He’s unbelievably proud of how it came out and the reception made it so much easier to start his second album, which is all recorded and ready to go, due to come out in December. It’s probably the thing he’s proudest of to date. 

He’s come a long way from the teenage boy who auditioned for _The X Factor_ to prove a point and he’s living the life that people only dream of. 

There’s still just a few things that stop being from being completely happy though. 

He hates the way his teenage PR persona hangs over him even now. He hates that he’s still seen as a womaniser even though before Louis he hadn’t slept with anyone in coming up to 18 months at this point, and he kind of plans for the next person he sleeps with to be the last person he sleeps with (he pointedly _doesn’t_ let himself wonder if that might in fact _be_ Louis). 

And Niall knows as much as well as anyone that Harry just wants to be in love. Probably better than anyone, really, because Niall was there when he started to present at the age of 14 and was nothing but supportive when Harry whispered to him one night under the cover of darkness that maybe he was attracted to men as well as women. 

Since becoming Harry’s manager, he’s fought tooth and nail to erase Harry’s womanising image. He’s made an effort to make sure that if Harry does enter into a PR relationship it’s short and sweet and that it’s almost entirely mutually beneficial so it can be nipped in the bud at the earliest opportunity, but still playing up Harry to be a relationship man rather than a man slag. 

He truly had no idea how commonplace PR relationships were until he started getting into them, but he’s sworn off them from now on. Even with his major Gucci campaign launching in November and his album coming out in December, he’s not doing it anymore. 

In his time, Harry’s had three PR relationships and he’s disliked every single minute of every single one. All three of the omegas have been nice enough, and he even ended up sleeping with two of them _just because_ , but nothing ever felt like it would stick. They knew it was never intended to be long-term, so they didn’t make the effort to keep it going. 

He’s never known how to properly start a relationship with someone so he’s remained (as far as he’s concerned) entirely single for his entire 24 years of life. But he desperately wants to find someone, not necessarily to bond and start having pups straight away or anything, but more so because he just feels like it’s the right time. He feels ready to start settling down, to make a life with someone. 

So perhaps Niall knows there’s more to this reunion than Harry’s letting on, that this isn’t just a fuck for Harry but he’s letting him have his moment with this omega. 

He certainly hopes so. 

He spends the rest of the day cleaning his flat from top to bottom, partly for the sake of tomorrow and partly for his own peace of mind. He loves his apartment more than anything—when he bought it, it was because the location was perfect, and in a very secure building. Since then he’s spent a small fortune renovating the place and turning it into his dream home, and now he couldn’t be happier with it. With its five bedrooms, six bathrooms, open-plan kitchen and dining area, closet room _and_ gym space, and the floor-to-ceiling windows that bring in the most beautiful natural light and views of London, it’s his heaven on earth. 

He doesn’t get to spend as much time here as he’d like, so when he’s home for any length of time he likes to be domestic, cooking and cleaning and sprucing things up. It’s something he takes great pride and pleasure in, even if he’s the only one who sees it. 

Well, him and Louis. 

If Louis comes along tomorrow, that is. 

_No,_ he scolds himself. Louis _is_ coming tomorrow, he’s confirmed it and he _will._

He squashes down the niggling part of his brain that keeps murmuring that Louis isn't coming and makes his way to Sainsbury’s. If he’s going to drag Louis here for an evening where he’s not working properly, the least he can do is offer him a good, square meal. 

He always goes to the shops wearing sunglasses and a hoodie to try and avoid being recognised, and his trip is relatively painless. He picks up steak, potatoes, fresh veggies and the ingredients for another full English breakfast in the hope that he’ll be able to convince Louis to stay even longer with the promise of eggs again. He seemed to really enjoy Harry’s eggs before, so it’s worth a shot. 

He’s beyond restless when he finally gets the text from Niall that Louis has been booked to arrive at his place for five o’clock. He’s also a bit put out that Niall keeps hinting that he’s in for a good fuck tonight when that’s _not_ what this is at all. 

He needs this like he needs water and air. He’s losing his fucking mind over here and all that can keep him going is that he hasn’t got long left without him. 

(There’s a small part of him that wonders if Louis feels the same, which is irritatingly not as loud than the part of his brain that’s screaming at him for overreacting, for pulling this poor omega back to him for no reason.)

There's a knock on the door at 4:59 and Harry nearly trips over his feet in his rush to open it. He stumbles towards the front door and practically rips it open, vibrating with nerves and excitement and wanting all at once. 

Louis’s face lights up when he sees Harry and he tentatively steps forward. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Harry breathes out, licking his lips without meaning to. His breathing is shaky and the scent radiating off Louis is downright _intoxicating._ “Um, come in.”

It’s then that Harry notices Louis has a bag, the same duffel bag he had with him last time. 

An overnight bag. 

“I’m so glad you called…” Louis starts to say, right as Harry blurts, “Can I give you a hug?” and they both freeze, staring at each other for a few seconds before they move. 

“ _Please,”_ Louis whimpers hurriedly, arms open for Harry to move into instantly. Harry rushes forward and bundles him up, pressing his face right into his neck and taking a deep breath, clutching Louis close to him to the point where his feet lift from the ground, which makes Louis squeak. “God, _Harry…”_

“I’m so happy to see you,” Harry murmurs, setting Louis down but keeping him in his arms, circling them around his shoulders. “I don’t… it’s weird, but I feel like I’ve been going crazy without you here.”

“Same,” Louis says, winding his arms around Harry’s neck, biting his lip as he stares up at him. He’s the most incredible thing that Harry’s ever laid eyes on. “I don’t understand, like, why I’ve been so… not myself, without you around.” He shakes his head. “God, I can’t believe you feel the same.”

“It’s been weird,” Harry says again, then takes a deep breath, savouring the fresh scent of vanilla and strawberry that’s emanating off of Louis in waves. He smells _happy_. “And I couldn’t… I didn’t have your number or, like, even your last name so I couldn’t find you without calling the company, so forgive me for overstepping.”

“Overstep all you like,” Louis says with a grin. “I was tempted to camp outside your front door like you threatened to, ready for you to cook me eggs again. “Then I remembered you were in the States and I’d have been thrown from the building by security.”

Harry shakes his head fondly. “I’d have had someone let you in.” He sighs. “Fucking hell, Louis, what are you doing to me? I never let anyone in this apartment, like, ever.”

“What are you doing to _me_?” Louis echoes, then ducks his head. “I’ve never come to see a client again knowing full well they’re not about to have their rut.”

Harry stamps down his jealousy and slides his hand under the bottom of Louis’s T-shirt, fingers rubbing lightly over the warm skin there. Somehow this doesn’t feel like overstepping and he doesn’t think Louis will bat him off. “I’m glad you did,” he says simply. “Sorry, like, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ll still make sure you’re paid the full night, but if you think it’s too weird…” 

Louis’s face falls. “You don’t want me to stay?”

“No,” Harry rushes out. “No, I mean, I want you to stay. Please stay. I just don’t want you to feel obligated to stay.” He gulps. “I don’t want you to think I’m a knothead for dragging you back here or whatever.”

“Harry, I can say no to clients,” Louis says dryly. “I want to be here.” He pokes Harry’s nipple. “Did you not get how much I want to be here from the way I practically forced myself into your arms back there?”

“Well, yes,” Harry says, sheepish. “I just… I dunno. I’ve never felt this way before.” He doesn’t elaborate because things could get very deep and intense very quickly. They’re pretty intense as it is. 

“Me neither,” Louis admits. “And I’ve been doing this a long time with a lot of different alphas.” He rolls his eyes when Harry growls. “Slow down, big boy. I’m only saying it because it’s true.”

“I know,” Harry grumbles. “The thing is, like…” He snorts because this whole thing is _absurd._ They haven’t even made it out of his hallway yet, they’re just standing holding each other by the front door because they couldn’t make it any further. “Okay, maybe we should talk properly. Do you want a drink? A beer?”

Louis looks apprehensive. “I’m not… I don’t drink on the job.” He rests his head against Harry’s chest. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, because I do. I just… I never have.”

“That’s okay,” Harry hums. “It doesn’t have to be beer. It can be water, Diet Coke, whatever you want.”

“Diet Coke sounds good,” Louis says, moving back so he can hold one of Harry’s hands with both of his. His small hands are warm, his grip firm. “Lead the way, stud.”

Louis is so tactile that Harry isn’t quite sure if he expects sex or not, or if this is just how he is. Once their drinks are poured they head back over to the sofa and Louis ends up in his lap again, head resting against Harry’s shoulder, their legs tangled. 

“Is this weird?” Harry asks out loud, even though he already half-knows the answer. “I mean, I take it you don’t come back to client’s houses often, from what you said back there.”

“I never take repeat clients,” Louis says bluntly, linking their fingers together. “Look, what I do… I’m an O-For-Hire for ruts. I’m not a prostitute just for sex, so I don’t go back to clients a second time because then there’s more chance of them getting attached and the risk of mating by accident is higher.” He looks at Harry carefully and Harry can tell by his scent that he’s suddenly quite nervous. “Harry, I feel like I need to be clear here. I’m not here just to have sex with you. I’m here because I have to be because I feel like I’m literally losing my bloody mind without you around. My omega is furious at me for being apart from you.”

“I didn’t call you back because I thought you were a prostitute,” Harry hurries to say, feeling mortified even at the thought. “God, shit, Louis, I called you back here because I feel the same. My alpha is furious at _me_ for finding… well, whatever it’s found in you and then leaving you. I asked you back here like this because I couldn’t fucking stand being apart from you any longer and I didn’t know what else to do.” He brings Louis’s hand to his mouth and brushes his lips over his. “I think… I think my alpha is attached to your omega and vice versa.”

Louis gulps. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t… like, this can’t be a coincidence we’re both feeling this way,” Harry continues. He’s normally not very good at looking people in the eye but he feels like he can’t look away from Louis’s. They’re gorgeous, baby blue and soft. “You said yourself you never get attached. I don’t let myself get attached either, I never have. But this…” He gestures between them. “This feels like attachment. I feel like if you were to walk out the door now I’d chase you.”

Louis snorts, pulling their linked hands back so he can brush his own lips over Harry’s knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere, stud. You’re right, there’s something keeping me here that I can’t quite work out but that’s okay.” He grins at Harry and Harry feels warm all over. “I’m happy to be here if you’re happy for me to stay here.”

Harry nods frantically. He’d have to be dragged away kicking and screaming before he separated himself from Louis again. “Stay as long as you want. You can stay the night if you want.” His eyes go wide. “But we don’t need to have sex or anything. Just, like, be with me. Not in a sexual way. Not that I don’t _want_ you in a sexual way because believe me, I _loved_ having you in a sexual way but this time we don’t need to do anything sexual because…” He cuts himself off, his cheeks flaming. “You wanna order Chinese?”

Louis giggles and pats Harry’s cheek. “I would love to order Chinese and sit with you. And, um, you’ve paid for my time so like…” He shrugs. “We could have sex if you wanted.”

“I thought you made a point to only sleep with clients during ruts,” Harry says slowly, treading carefully. 

Louis shrugs, his cheeks flushing a touch. If Harry wasn’t so acutely attuned to his scent, he probably wouldn’t have noticed, but he feels very hyper-aware of the man in front of him, finding himself unable to stop staring. The last thing he wants is to upset him. 

“I… yeah, okay,” Louis murmurs, fixing a bright smile on his face. “I was only asking because I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Louis.” Harry cups his face in his hands, any worries about going too far too quickly suddenly gone. “I don’t want you to think I called you here for a fuck, that’s all. I don’t want you to just be a fuck.”

Louis doesn’t answer for a moment, which makes Harry think he’s _really_ fucked up somehow, but then he looks up and blinks at Harry a couple of times. “So, what? We just, like, sit here and cuddle to placate our stupid secondary genders?”

“Well,” Harry croaks, his cheeks burning. “Yes. But we can also like… spend time together as friends?”

Louis bursts out laughing. “Friends? You’re paying over a grand to spend the night with me as a friend?”

“Yes?” Harry says, then sighs. “Well, look. I want to spend time with you because I feel like I need to. You feel similarly, as you said, so we might as well, right?”

“I…” Louis looks conflicted. The smile drops from his face and his mouth sets in a tight line. “So we’re friends?”

“Friends,” Harry agrees, though he feels uncomfortable saying it. But this is _Louis_ and Louis isn’t in a position to be anything more than friends right now, or so it seems. “We can just… we can be friends for now and then see what happens.”

“Harry.” Louis looks at him carefully. “You know I’m an O-For-Hire, right?”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Yes of course I do, Lou.”

Louis nods and rests a hand on his knee. “So you know that, like, we can’t happen, right?” he says, gesturing between them with his other hand. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression by coming back but I’m just…” He gestures again faster. “You know.”

Harry’s face falls. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. “Yeah,” he nods, aiming to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. “I know. I just… we need this for our secondary genders, don’t we? So we may as well, like, hang out for a bit as friends, you know?”

“Yeah, but,” Louis says warily, “I’m not going to let you pay for it each time. That’s not fair.”

“We can talk about that,” Harry assures him, squeezing over the hand that’s still clutching his leg. “We can work it all out if, you know, we feel we need to keep doing this.”

“You think this will go away now we’ve seen each other again?” Louis asks, and Harry sinks even lower into the sofa when he says that because he sounds _too_ hopeful about that. 

“I dunno,” he answers truthfully. “What I do know that I feel ten times better now you’re here.” He sighs and sits upright. “I, um. I bought ingredients for dinner. Steak and triple cooked chips. I don’t know why I offered out a takeaway when I had plans to cook for you all along.”

Louis giggles. “You’re so cute. I can’t believe I make Harry Styles _nervous,_ like what the fuck?”

Harry’s first instinct is to frown at that - he hasn’t realised he was coming off as nervous and he’s a little annoyed with himself at being a terrible alpha - but then Louis giggles again in that gorgeous way he’s come to adore already and he finds himself unable to help but giggle too. This whole situation is a bit ridiculous really, absurd and new and awkward all at once, but he’s glad Louis’s here. 

He can’t even begin to describe how much better he feels just for being in the same room as him. 

Feeling better but still a little disappointed, he goes and starts fixing Louis a cuppa and gets the steaks out the fridge. “Are you hungry?”

Louis nods, tucking his hands into the pockets of his joggers as he follows Harry into the kitchen. “I could eat. Do you want me to do anything?”

“Sit down and relax?” Harry tosses a tea bag into the mug and adds the sugar. “Let me look after you today. I invited you here, didn’t I?”

Louis grins, ducking his head. “Well, alright. It’s very often I’ve got an alpha cooking me my tea, that’s for sure.”

It’s a very lovely evening, exactly the kind of evening Harry feels he needed. The food is delicious, if he does say so himself, and they do the washing up together and it all feels very practiced and domestic. 

Louis still declines his offer of a beer but Harry puts his Diet Coke in one of his stupid overpriced champagne flutes and they curl up on the sofa to watch films, the first being _The Notebook_ (Harry’s choice), followed by _Die Hard_ (Louis’s choice). 

Louis falls asleep halfway through his own film choice, his head resting in Harry’s lap, his body curled up like a cat’s. He looks so much younger in sleep, his lips parted and making the softest snuffling sounds. Harry’s loathed to move him because he’s clearly comfortable enough to fall asleep here and he doesn’t want to disturb him if he doesn’t have to. 

But a loud _boom_ from the film jolts Louis awake suddenly and he scrabbles to sit up, his face pink and his hair a mess from where Harry’s fingers have been gently carding through it. “Shit. What time is it?”

Harry glances at his watch. “It’s nearly 2am.” He sits up a little straighter so Louis can sit up properly on the sofa, wrapping the blanket around himself. He looks adorable. “We can go to bed if you want. _Separate_ beds, of course.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Separate beds?”

“Do you want to stay the night?” Harry asks awkwardly. “I mean, I saw you brought a bag with you so I figured you might want to.”

“Um, yes?” Louis plays with his fingers in his lap. “I didn’t want to assume, but you did, like, book me overnight. But I want to. Better than getting a taxi now, certainly.”

“I, um, I can set up the guest room?” Harry asks quickly. “If you want to stay, of course, don’t feel obliged.”

Louis chuckles and stands up, picking up his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Babe, I’m staying. You don’t need to look so nervous. We’ve ascertained that I want to be here.”

Harry nods tersely. “I know, I know. I’m sorry if I’m being really awkward, I just… I want to make sure you’re happy and comfortable.”

Louis grins at him. “I’m very comfortable, Harry. It’s not often I fall asleep in the lap of an alpha. And I’m really happy you asked me back, like, in general.” He tilts his head towards the hallway. “Is it this way?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “Here, you can stay in the one opposite me. It has an en-suite.”

Louis’s face lights up. “Oh my god, really? God, I am living in luxury tonight.”

Something in Harry’s chest feels tight and uncomfortable that staying in a room with an en-suite is Louis’s idea of luxury. He hopes it doesn’t sound like he’s showing off. 

It must show on his face because Louis shakes his head. “I’m mostly joking, you know. It’s only because I live in this stupid small studio flat. Anything above that is a luxury to me.”

“Right,” Harry nods, still feeling a touch self-conscious. He’s very proud of his home, but it is a lot to take in, and the last thing he ever wants is for Louis to feel like he’s showing off. “Um, are you tired now?”

Louis pauses but nods. “Yeah, um, sorry. I didn’t realise it was so late in the evening.”

“Don’t apologise for being tired.” Harry gets to his feet and gestures towards the hallway. “Especially at 2am. Let’s go to bed, we can talk more in the morning.”

Louis nods. “Can I, like, shower in the en-suite?”

“Louis, you can do whatever you like here, I promise,” Harry says. “There’s towels in there and I also put, like, soap and toothpaste and stuff in there just in case.”

“The host with the most,” chortles Louis, then he nods again. “You’re lovely, you know that?”

“What are friends for?” Harry asks, going for light-hearted but it falls a bit flat. 

“Indeed,” Louis replies, then jumps to his feet. “Are you going to bed now too?”

Harry nods and stands with him. “Yeah, I’ll tidy the kitchen in the morning. Let’s go.”

He blows out all the candles and shuts off all the lights as Louis gathers his bags, and once he’s checked the front door is firmly locked he meets Louis outside the bedroom. He’s set the bags inside already, the lights set to dim. 

“I’m going to have a quick shower,” he murmurs, then pulls Harry into a tight hug. “Will you, um…”

He cuts himself off with a squeak as Harry presses a tender kiss to the top of his head, because he’s a mess who can’t help himself, apparently. “Will I what, love?”

“Will you make me eggs for breakfast?” Louis pulls back and blinks up at him, biting his lip. “Your famous eggs?”

Harry has a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t what he was going to say in the first place, but he doesn’t press. “Of course, Lou,” he says with a soft smile. “I bought eggs for that very reason.”

“You’re good to me.” Louis bounces up on his tiptoes and kisses him on the jaw. “Goodnight, lovely Harry.”

He disappears into his room and clicks the door closed. Harry stands there like a complete idiot for a few moments, his fingers brushing over the spot that Louis had kissed like he’s a fucking damsel. 

Fuck. 

He’s fucked. He’s completely and utterly fucking fucked. 

_Fuck._

*

The next day, Harry texts Niall to book Louis for the whole weekend, then goes back to bed. 

*

Louis turns up with an even bigger bag on Friday night, a blinding smile on his face, and a pair of joggers on his lower half that make his arse look _sublime_. 

“Thank god,” he breathes as Harry welcomes him into his arms at the door. “I’ve had a headache for like four days without you.”

“Me too,” Harry murmurs, kissing the top of his head and taking a deep, welcoming breath of Louis’s scent. “I’ve missed you.”

Louis leans back and beams up at him. “Well, stud, you’ve got me for the whole weekend now. You got any plans for us?”

On a selfish alpha level, Harry’s plans involve keeping Louis in his flat all to himself. Instead of voicing that and potentially scaring Louis off though, he shrugs. “Well, tonight I thought we could make pizza? And then watch the new Bond movie?”

“Which Bond movie?” Louis furrows his brows. “The new one isn’t out for a couple of months.” 

“Maybe for other people,” Harry hums. He’s not usually one to pull favours to show off like this, but he can’t seem to help himself when it comes to Louis. “But if you know one of the screenwriters well enough that she sends you a link to it early…”

Louis’s mouth drops open. “What? Who? What?”

Harry grins. “Phoebe Waller-Bridge is a good friend of mine.”

“ _What?”_ Louis looks absolutely delighted by that, and Harry mentally fist pumps the air. 

“How? What?”

“Does that sound like a good plan then?” Harry chirps, leading Louis towards the living room. “You can pop your bag in your room if you want. I changed the sheets for you.”

(The sheets Louis slept in the first time are absolutely _not_ hidden under his mattress and Harry absolutely did _not_ use them to help him sleep the nights him and Louis have been apart.)

“Sounds like the best plan ever,” Louis says, then breaks away from Harry to twirl dramatically around the room. “What kind of pizza?”

“Whatever kind you want,” Harry says. “I bought loads of different toppings and a massive bag of cheese and I’ve made the sauce myself. Whatever you want.”

“Harry Styles is such a _nerd_ who loves to cook,” Louis says wistfully. “Who knew?”

“I want to make sure you’re leaving well fed,” Harry hums as he heads towards the fridge. “Do you want a drink? I got more Diet Coke in for you.”

Louis beams at him. “You are good to me,” he titters. “Come on then, stud. Let’s have a lovely friendly evening.”

Harry refrains from commenting about the _friendly_ remark and leads Louis to the kitchen with a gentle hand on the small of his back. 

_Very friendly._

They eat their dinner and watch their Bond movie tangled together under a big blanket and Louis lets Harry scent him again, and at the end of the evening when they part ways into different bedrooms Harry’s heart lurches at the idea of losing the physical contact with him. He’s just about to ask if Louis wants to sleep in his bed with him, but just as he’s about to ask, Louis kisses him on the cheek and bids him goodnight before he can. 

Laying in bed, his brain chooses that moment to recall that every night he’s stayed over, Louis has bid him goodnight with a kiss on the cheek and called him _lovely Harry,_ like that’s normal behaviour _._ Itakes him ages to get to sleep after that. 

The weekend passes far too quickly for Harry’s liking. On the Saturday morning he makes Louis his famous eggs and after that they settle in for a lazy weekend on the sofa, watching the entire series of Netflix’s new murder mystery in one day. 

Harry eats his first Dominos in years because Louis is absolutely _scandalised_ that he’s gone so long without one. It’s not the best pizza by any means, especially for the price they end up paying, but Louis takes great pleasure in watching Harry try the garlic and herb dip for the first time, even though Harry’s already convinced he isn’t going to like it. 

“It’s a rite of passage, that,” he grins as Harry winces and takes a hefty swig of his beer. “Eating DominosEating a Dominos with a working class lad in your fancy London flat.”

“I didn’t like that,” Harry says bitterly. “That did not taste good.”

Louis snatches the pot of sauce from him. “Well, give it here, don’t waste it.” He dips his garlic bread crust into it and grins around it. “Glad you tried it though. Means a lot to me.”

It really _was_ disgusting, but Harry doesn’t stop grinning for the rest of his dinner after that. 

And Sunday is even lazier, if that’s possible. They get into an argument over breakfast over who is the best James Bond actor, so they end up watching all of Sean Connery’s films followed by all of Pierce Brosnan’s films before getting into a very vicious, very ridiculous popcorn fight which ends with Harry pinning Louis’s wrists above his head on the sofa cushions in what some may consider to be a rather compromising position. 

They’re both breathing heavily, caught in the fun before the reality of the position they’re now in hits them. This is probably the most intimate position they’ve found themselves in since Harry’s rut and he’s quick to break the hold once he realises. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Got carried away.”

Louis nods and snatches the blanket from the sofa behind him, draping it over his lap. “S’fine,” he rushes out, his voice strained, and he keeps his head down like he’s embarrassed. “Do you want to order some real food instead?”

They end up ordering roast dinners from one of Harry’s favourite London bistros because the second Harry suggests a Sunday roast Louis perks right back up and any awkwardness between them easily melts away. Louis even has a small glass of wine with his meal, which has Harry silently fist pumping under the table. It’s a small step, but the fact that he’s starting to feel comfortable enough around Harry to do something he was so vehemently against is _gorgeous_ to see. 

They don’t leave the house once and it’s the best weekend Harry’s had for as long as he can remember. 

In the morning, Louis seems more reluctant to leave today than he has previously, staying for breakfast and lunch.

“I have no food at home,” he insists, ducking his eyes back down to the sandwich Harry made for him. “I’ll be out your hair after I’ve eaten, I promise.”

Harry doesn’t _want_ Louis out of his hair, but he’s still not sure if he’s allowed to tell him that. 

But as it turns out, when the time comes it’s not him who changes everything, it’s Louis. 

He can’t help but wonder if he should be surprised that things changed so quickly between them, because on a realistic level they were never _just_ going to be friends. Friends don’t sit in each other’s laps or drop each other little kisses to say thank you or scent each other, or at least Harry’s never had a friend like that. 

And definitely not a friend he’d do things like this when he still hardly knows them, and he’s also never had a friend he physically needs to be around for the sake of his mind, body, and soul. 

Yeah, everything’s a little too intense with Louis to be considered a friendship and they both knew that getting into it; . Bbut Harry’s been very careful not to go too far or ask too many questions because he almost doesn’t want to know, at least not yet. This thing with Louis is new and different and special, and part of him wants to keep it that way for the time being. 

But in typical Louis fashion, he has other ideas. 

Seven words is all it takes for their relationship to shift completely. 

It’s a Wednesday night and they’ve spent two nights apart, but Harry couldn’t stop his mind running rampant with the idea that the longer he goes without booking Louis, the more chance there is of him ending up being booked by some _other_ alpha, so he books him for the rest of the week. He wonders if Niall is getting suspicious yet and he also wonders if the company that Louis works for has gotten wind of the fact he’s taking bookings for the same bloke who clearly isn’t in rut this soon again. 

He also can’t really bring himself to care. 

So it’s a Wednesday and Harry’s made a big bowl of this pasta recipe he’d seen on Instagram and they’re eating at the table in the kitchen for once, chatting about their days. 

And then Louis brings it up. 

“I googled it, by the way,” he says, then shoves a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “Why we’re feeling so attached to each other and stuff. The internet seems to think we’re soulmates.”

Harry chokes on a tomato. He thumps at his chest with his fist and tries to process that information. “Um,” he laughs nervously. “S-soulmates?”

_Soulmates._

“Soulmates,” Louis says again with a nod. “Your alpha has identified my omega as a potential life mate and vice versa. So they’re screaming at us to get together.”

“Ah,” Harry says, because he really doesn’t know what else to say. “And, like, how do you feel about that?”

There’s a pause. “Well, I mean, just because we have this connection doesn’t mean we’re right for each other, like, long-term, does it?” Louis doesn’t look up from his pasta. “Which is why we’re just friends, right?”

“Right,” Harry says, then stabs at his pasta a bit too aggressively to be nonchalant. “Yes, okay. That’s fair enough.”

When he glances back up Louis is staring at him silently, a forkful of pasta halfway to his frowning mouth. “Harry.”

“Louis,” Harry titters, not even masking the sarcasm. 

“Don’t… don’t make this harder,” Louis says, dropping his fork onto his plate and reaching for Harry’s hand. If Harry was a stronger man, he might drop his hand out of the way, but he isn’t a strong man when it comes to Louis. “We’ve got to do this for a bit but Harry, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. We barely know each other.”

“Then let me get to know you,” Harry says. He’s aware that he’s starting to sound like a petulant child, or maybe even a broken record, at this point. “ _Friends_ know things about their other _friends_.”

“Harry,” Louis warns. “Getting to know each other and liking being around each other doesn’t make us soulmates.”

_No, it’s the being in physical pain when I’m not around you that makes us soulmates._

“I know that,” Harry groans. “I just… maybe I need to do my own research on this soulmates thing so I can discredit it. Like you clearly have.”

“I haven’t _discredited_ it,” Louis says carefully. “I just don’t think it’s necessarily a thing these days. Like I can’t just let myself bond with the first guy that my Omega warms to.”

“Right,” Harry says again. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

Things are a little tense for the rest of the meal and they barely speak again until after their plates have been cleared away and they’re getting ready to watch a movie. 

Harry sits awkwardly on the sofa while Louis disappears to the guest room to change into his pyjama bottoms and take his birth control. When he reappears, he sees Harry sat on the opposite side of the sofa to where he usually sits and rolls his eyes. 

“You don’t have to avoid me, you know.” He clambers into Harry’s lap and tugs his arms around his shoulders and because Harry is a weak, weak man, he lets him and he instantly feels better for it. “I want to be around you too, Harry. I’m not here reluctantly.”

Harry takes a deep breath and tries not to get caught up in his scent too much. “I know,” he says croakily. “I just… I feel like I’m struggling with this more than you, perhaps?”

He feels Louis shift in his lap and suddenly his hand is being squeezed in both of Louis’s littler ones. “What are you struggling with?”

“Just, like.” He isn’t sure how to say this without coming across too vulnerable, which is not something he wants to do in front of his potential omega. “You and me being soulmates. I believe it.”

He hears Louis gasp and tense and he tightens his hold on him. Neither of them say anything for a few moments. 

“I believe it too.” Louis breaks the silence with a whisper, so quiet that Harry isn’t sure that he’s heard it at first. “I believe it too, but… I can’t, Harry, I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Harry whispers back. He feels like he can’t speak any louder right now or his voice might crack. 

“I can’t,” Louis says again. “Because… because if we’re soulmates then everything would change and I just… I can’t.”

“It doesn’t have to change,” Harry tells him, wrapping his arms even tighter around the omega in his lap. “It can be the same. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Louis chuckles sadly. He twists one of Harry’s rings around his finger and still doesn’t look at him. “I can’t do that, Harry. If I say anything else or do anything else, things will change whether I want them to or not.”

Harry hesitates. “Things have already changed, haven't they?” 

Louis doesn’t say anything, which is an answer in itself. They were never going to be just friends and they both knew that from the start, and Louis putting a name on it makes it all the more real. 

And _soulmates_ aren't anything to take lightly either. Soulmates aren’t uncommon, but they aren’t an everyday occurrence either, and if you find yours you don’t let them go. They both know that, but if he’s honest Harry hadn’t even considered that this could be him meeting his soulmate. He wasn’t sure what he thought it was, but the word _soulmate_ has been whirring around his brain since Louis said it. He can’t believe he hasn’t made the connection before now. 

He’s always been one of those people who just assumed he didn’t have a soulmate. Other people always talk about knowing you have a soulmate from an early age, that you could feel flickers of their emotions or pain when they felt pain, but Harry can’t recall ever feeling anything like that. He’s been so busy over the past few years, met so many people and done so many amazing things, that the hunt for a partner wasn’t really at the forefront of his mind until recently. 

But now he’s met Louis, and all he’s thought about every single minute of every single day since he met him is how much he wants Louis to be his. 

Harry just can’t help but feel helpless, because if Louis isn’t ready then there’s nothing he can do about it. And it definitely sounds like Louis isn’t ready. 

“Louis?” Harry murmurs after a good few minutes, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Are you going to stay?”

Louis hesitates but nods. “Yeah, I’m gonna stay.”

“Okay,” Harry replies. He keeps his arms tightly around Louis’s middle. “Do you wanna watch that new David Attenborough documentary on Netflix?”

Another pause but then Louis nods again, twisting up and back so he can look at Harry. He’s biting his lip as he always does when he’s nervous and his eyes are wide, shiny and deep and gorgeous. 

Harry’s obsessed with this omega, he really is. He’s so beautiful that Harry’s stomach can’t help but clench when their gazes meet. 

“Yeah,” Louis croaks, then presses a kiss to Harry’s shoulder. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.”

Harry shrugs lazily. “I mean, it’s good to know that this is a thing. But we can just keep doing what we’re doing until…” He lets out a long sigh to cut himself off, because he doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. “Until we don’t do it anymore.”

“Right,” Louis mumbles, nodding as he lets himself go lax in Harry’s hold. “Exactly.”

“Right,” Harry parrots, then reaches for the remote, snapping the TV on so his thoughts are drowned out by the sounds from the documentary. 

His grip on Louis stays just as tight, and Louis doesn’t try to move off of him either. 

The word _soulmate_ rings in his ears until he falls asleep several hours later. 

*

The fourth time Louis comes over, Harry comes out of the kitchen to find him stuffing two jumpers from Harry’s laundry basket into his overnight bag. He doesn’t comment, just slinks back into the kitchen for a couple more minutes before joining Louis on the sofa for the rest of the film they’re watching. 

*

By the seventh time Louis stays over, Harry can’t take it anymore. 

“We need to talk.”

They’re both in scruffy clothes, sitting on the sofa eating Thai food straight from the containers. Louis freezes with half a forkful of rice halfway to his mouth. 

“We do?”

“Yes.” Harry avoids Louis’s eyes as he scraps the last of his own dinner onto his spoon, tossing his container onto the coffee table. “We do.”

Louis swallows his mouthful of food loudly. “Okay? Have I… done something?”

Harry sighs. This is not a conversation he wants to have but he feels like he has to. “Louis, I don’t want us to be friends anymore.” Louis’s eyes go wide and he nearly chokes on his dinner as Harry realises what he said and starts to shake his head wildly. _“Fuck._ No, that isn’t what I meant. Shit.”

Louis thumps his chest and glares at him. “ _Fucker_ . I just nearly _died_.”

“Jesus Christ,” Harry mutters. He’s handling this badly already and he’s barely even started yet. “Okay, that’s not what I meant. I meant that remember when I said we could just hang out as friends? I didn’t mean that. I want us to be much more than friends.”

“Harry,” Louis warns. “Don’t do this.”

“No, but I have to.” Harry scrubs a hand over his face. “This isn’t something I can keep doing, Louis. I need to tell you this so we can move forward.”

“ _Harry,”_ Louis barks. “Why does it have to move forward? Why do we have to do this now?”

“Because I said so, that’s why,” Harry claps back hotly. “Because I’m losing my fucking mind and I… I can’t go on pretending I don’t have feelings for you.”

“Feelings for me?” Louis says shrilly. “No, Harry, no, don’t do this…”

Harry reaches forward and takes both of Louis’s hands in his. They’re a little clammy, but he doesn’t move away. “Louis, these feelings we have for each other aren’t normal. And we need to stop pretending they are.”

“How do you _know_ they’re not normal?” Louis huffs, but he doesn’t meet his eyes. “How do you know that this isn’t just a fluke that I could maybe have with another client?”

Harry has to suppress the urge to growl. “Have you… had this with any of your other clients?”

Louis bristles at the word _clients._ Harry doesn’t feel like a client and they both know it. “No,” he answers honestly, “But Harry… whatever this is, this isn’t… it can’t happen. You know that, right?”

Harry frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

Louis looks down at his lap. “Look. This is… this is a mistake really. Spending time with you like this is technically a breach of our contracted agreement and maybe we should l…”

“Oh, to fuck with the contract,” Harry scoffs. “This goes beyond the contract.”

“Does it?” Louis asks harshly. “Because maybe it does, yeah, and I can’t deny that I’m… god, what I feel for you is so…” He trails off and scrubs a hand over his face. “But the contract is there to protect _me,_ Harry, not you.”

Harry frowns again. “What… Louis, do I… do you not feel, like, safe with me?”

“I feel safer with you than I’ve felt with any alpha I’ve ever been with, and I’ve been with a good few,” Louis tells him, then tuts and rolls his eyes when Harry growls. “For god’s sake, don’t go all alpha on me right after I say that. You know what I do for a living.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Harry grumbles, but he does at least look a bit sheepish. He knows well enough that Louis hates the growling. “I don’t mean to growl, baby, I just… I don’t have to like what you do, do I?”

Louis shrugs. “Needs must. My bills aren’t going to pay themselves.”

“No, I know,” Harry says with a sigh. “And I’m not here trying to tell you how to live your life, I’m not. I know that’s not my place considering I’m not, like, even officially courting you or anything, but…” He twitches in his seat. “I don’t want you seeing any other alphas.”

Louis scrunches up his face, confused. “That’s literally my job, babe.”

“I know,” Harry repeats. “I don’t know how to ask you this without sounding like an alpha prick, or a prick in general.”

“Harry…”

“I want to court you,” Harry stammers out, hoping he doesn’t look as uncharacteristically nervous as he feels. Louis blinks at him. “I know we’ve only met a few times and we’ve only had sex once, but my alpha… my alpha _needs_ you around. I’m literally going out of my mind because all I can think about is you and being with you and courting you…”

“Harry,” Louis gulps, promptly shutting him up. “You barely know me.”

“You feel it too though, I _know_ you do,” Harry says desperately. “My alpha can feel how much your omega craves me. How compatible they are for each other.”

“Well, yes,” Louis bristles, because to deny it would be a big fat lie. “But that’s not how it works in life, Harry. On a realistic level we’re living two completely different lives in two completely different worlds. You’re you and I’m… well, I’m essentially an escort.” He shakes his head. “God, the press would have a field day if it came out you were courting an escort, wouldn’t they?”

“Don’t care,” Harry mutters. “You’re also not a bloody escort. You’re _Louis.”_

“Babe, I’m literally here on time that I’m going to invoice you for,” Louis says hotly. Then he sighs. “Harry, I like you a lot. I’d be lying if I tried to deny we’ve got, like, this unique chemistry between us. But I just…”

“Do you steal jumpers from all your clients?” Harry interrupts. He inches closer to Louis. “Would you even consider doing this for any of your other clients, just spending time with them without the sex?”

“Uh, maybe?” Louis glares at him. “What do you want me to say, Harry? Do you want me to reassure you that you’re the only one or something?”

“But you always knew there would come a time when you couldn’t do this anymore, right?” Harry presses. 

“Yes,” Louis says firmly, but he can’t meet Harry’s eyes again. His cheeks are pink. “Funnily enough, being a warm hole for other alphas to use for their ruts isn’t my life’s ambition, would you believe? I do actually have other aspirations.”

Harry growls again, turning it into a frustrated sigh when Louis glares at him. “Like what?”

“Well, fuck… I don’t know, Harry,” Louis snaps, exasperated. “Like I want to do my PhD eventually. I want to become a social worker, I think.”

“You’d be good at that,” Harry tells him, feeling a sense of pride from that idea already. His omega, a _doctor._

“But that’s not the point right now, is it?” Louis says with a sigh. “I can’t just give up my job for the first alpha my omega warms to.”

Harry pouts. “But this isn’t normal, Louis. I’ve never… I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.” It’s honest, too honest, but it’s the truth. “And by that argument, you’ll be in this job forever because you can’t ever start a relationship if you’re in this job.”

Louis shrugs. “Yeah. You’re right. But if we look at this from the other side, are you, Harry Styles, willing to give up your life of sex, drugs, and rock n roll for a fucking _escort?”_

“You’re not an escort,” Harry nearly shouts, his voice edging on too much. He reigns it back in and mumbles an apology. “Sorry, I just… I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that.” Louis tuts, but he barrels on. “And in answer to your question, I’m asking you to date me. I’m asking you to be mine.” He shakes his head. “I’m not that guy, you know. I’m not… I’m not the guy that everyone seems to think I am.”

Louis’s expression softens. “I know that,” he murmurs, then he reaches forward and takes Harry’s hand in his. “I’m just arguing because I feel I need to. Like a self-preservation thing.” He sighs. “I want a reason to say no to you. Because I find it really fucking difficult to.”

Harry squeezes his hand. “I can help you, you know. I can help you get onto a PhD and I can help you support your family and I can…”

“Woah, woah, slow down, big guy.” Louis’s eyes are wide. “I’m not going to turn into a kept omega. I know my way of earning money isn’t the most traditional or whatever but I still make my money. I’m not going to just quit my job.” He sighs. “But I don’t want to take your money to spend time with you. That’s not fair either.”

“I’d pay more,” Harry insists. He feels a bit desperate at this point. “I’d pay whatever.”

“No,” Louis says, shaking his head. “You can’t ask that of me. I don’t want you to ask that of me. It’s not fair on you or me, do you understand?”

“All I understand is that I want you,” Harry tells him, shrugging. “If that means I have to wait until you find another job or if I need to support you if you choose to quit your job, I’ll do it.”

Louis kisses him. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Louis huffs again, then he sighs. “God, why can’t it be easy?” He shakes his head. “It’s just… a lot, to be wanted by you.”

Harry blinks at him. “Why, because I’m a bit famous?”

“A bit famous,” Louis repeats with a snort. “Yes, Harry, you’re a bit famous.” He climbs into Harry’s lap properly and Harry welcomes him easily, winding his arms around his middle and tucking his face into the crook of his shoulder, taking a deep breath. The scent of Louis, the sweet scent of vanilla and berries and warmth that Harry’s so quickly come to adore, is so soothing to him, even if Louis isn’t telling him exactly what he wants to him. 

Right now, this is enough.

“God,” Louis moans as Harry scents him lightly, going lax in Harry’s hold. “Jesus, I could get used to this.”

“I want you to,” Harry whispers, knowing full well that if he tries any more protesting at this point, he’ll just be fighting a losing battle. If this is all Louis will allow him right now, he’ll happily take it. 

It’s a step in the right direction if nothing else. 

“I know,” Louis murmurs, his hands coming up to cradle the back of Harry’s head. “It’s not a no, Harry, let me be clear on that.” Harry’s heart leaps. “But it’s a _not yet_. Let me… let me work some things out before… before I let myself do what I promised I’d never do for an alpha.”

Harry hums in agreement. “Will you stay?”

Louis pulls his head back and looks at Harry carefully. “Is this on paid time or our time?”

“Whatever you want it to be,” Harry answers. He licks his lips. “I won’t say no to either.”

“Our time,” Louis says, then smiles. “I’m here because I want to be.”

For lack of anything else to do or say, Harry kisses him. It starts off tame, closed-mouthed and soft, but pretty soon things get heated, tongues licking into each other’s mouths and hands clutching desperately at each other’s bodies. Harry can feel himself getting hard against Louis’s thigh and it doesn’t take long before he can smell that Louis is turned on too. 

“Baby,” he groans, pulling away from him with a grunt, using all the self-control he has to not take this further. “Baby, we need to slow down.”

Louis frowns down at him. “Uh, why?”

“Because I don’t want to stop and I can… feel things happening,” Harry says, glancing down at both their crotches. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

“Anyone with half a brain cell could get the hint of what you’re saying, fucking hell,” Louis grumbles. “I’m not a blushing virgin, you know, and I’m not averse to having sex with you again. I quite enjoyed it the first time, as it happens.”

Harry gulps. “Yeah, but this is like…” He gestures between them again. “If I have sex with you now, then I’m not gonna let you go and have sex with another alpha again because… well, you know as well as I do that I just can’t.” He shakes his head. “I know you’re your own person and we’ve just had this long chat establishing that we’re not courting yet or anything, but I just… I just can’t.”

Louis tuts and slaps him lightly on the cheek. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“I… you’re not mad?” Harry stares at him, nerves sitting heavy in his stomach. He doesn’t want to upset Louis before anything’s even started between them but he just _can’t_ sleep with him and then let him go. It goes against literally all his biological programming. 

“Harry, babe, like it or not I’ve spent quite a lot of time around alphas,” Louis says, his tone of the cusp of being condescending. He sighs. “But fine. No sex.” He wiggles in Harry’s lap and whimpers. “Though not gonna lie, I’m so turned on right now I’m very tempted to quit my job.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Harry blurts without thinking, both his dick and his heart stirring at the thought. _God,_ he’s so _embarrassing._ “Quit your job, give up your flat, whatever you need. I’ll look after you, pay for everything.”

Louis’s mouth drops open. “ _What_ did we _just_ talk about _?”_ he shrills, then scrabbles to clamber off Harry’s lap. “Are you fucking serious, Harry?”

Harry is deadly serious—he’d move Louis in and pay for everything he needs in a heartbeat—but he feels that probably isn’t the right answer. 

“Um.”

“Um,” Louis repeats, eyes like fire. Harry suddenly feels like the tables have turned, like he’s not the one in control anymore. “For fuck’s sake, Harry, do you have any idea what you’ve just asked me? Five minutes after you literally agreed not to ask it?”

“Um,” Harry says again, because he’s apparently an idiot who’s also gone catatonic. “Look, baby…”

“Don’t _baby_ me,” Louis spits. “God, alphas are all the fucking same, aren’t they? You said you wouldn’t, and then you did _literally_ two fucking seconds later. You really think you can buy me just like everyone else, don’t you? That right now I’m being a bit of a martyr but eventually I’ll be happy to jump from selling my arse for ruts to being your happy little house-omega, is that what this is?”

“I don’t want to buy you,” Harry insists, standing up and taking a step towards Louis, who takes a swift step backwards. “I didn’t think, Louis, I’m so sorry…”

“No, you didn’t bloody think, did you?” Louis tuts, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Harry, I don’t know what you want me to say to that, like…” He groans. “God, I’m so fucking angry at you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry says again. “I respect your decision to not just quit your job, I promise I do. I’m just upset for myself, because I…” He trails off and takes a deep breath. “I just want you so much. I don’t have a better excuse than that.”

“Oh, I see,” Louis drawls, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Poor little alpha rockstar isn’t used to not getting what he wants, is this it?”

 _“No,”_ Harry snaps. He can feel himself getting heated, partly because he knows he’s fucked up and partly because he knows Louis is never going to let him forget this. “I just forgot myself for a second because you’re so much. I don’t want you to quit your job on my account.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Louis spins on his heels and grabs his coat from where it’s draped over one of the dining chairs. “Have a nice life, Harry. It’s been fun getting to know you. The next few weeks are going to be hell while we get used to being apart from one another again, but I’m sure if you need someone to comfort you, you know the number to call by now.”

“ _No_ ,” Harry shouts, which makes them both freeze. It’s not quite his alpha voice but it isn’t far off. “ _Fuck,_ I’m _sorry._ Just… please don’t leave. Please.”

“I have to,” Louis says, and his voice cracks on the final word. “I can’t be here anymore, I’m sorry.”

“Louis, _please.”_ Harry isn’t below begging at this point. “You can’t leave, I’m so sorry…”

Louis shakes his head and unlocks the door with trembling hands. “Bye, Harry. Don’t call me.”

“Louis!” 

The door slams behind him but Harry rushes to yank it back open. It’s too late though, because as he tries to chase Louis down, he’s already in the lift, the doors closed as he disappears down and out of the building, out of Harry’s life forever. 

He’s _gone._

He stumbles back into his flat, not really paying any mind to whether the door closes or not, and he collapses onto his sofa with his head in his hands. 

What the fuck is he meant to do now?

Louis said he’s not coming back. He said he’s leaving and he’s not coming back and Harry can’t… he can’t _live_ like that. 

He’s never felt so distressed in his _life._ It’s like his skin is too tight on his bones, his head too heavy on his shoulders, and he can’t fucking _breathe_. He can barely breathe without Louis anyway and now Louis is gone. 

Louis is gone. 

Louis is gone and he isn’t coming back and it’s all Harry’s fault. 

The best thing that’s ever happened to him has just walked away and it’s all because Harry couldn’t keep his stupid alpha mouth shut. 

If he wasn’t quite sure about them being soulmates before, he is absolutely convinced now. The pain he feels across every inch of his body is unbearable, like his limbs are being pulled in different directions and his organs are going to fall out of him. It’s a pain like he’s never experienced before, not even like when he was seven and his mum told them they were moving away and his dad wouldn’t be living with them anymore. It felt like his world was caving in that day, but that felt nothing like this.o

This pain is unique and unbearable and awful and he wonders if Louis is feeling even a smidgen of this, that this is what he meant when he said that the next few weeks are going to be hell. It’s hell whenever they’re apart for a night, let alone a prolonged period of time, and now they’re going to be apart… well, permanently, by the sounds of it. 

He’s hurt Louis and now he’s hurting for both of them, for the hurt he’s caused and for the hurt that’s going to continue for however long they’re apart. He can feel it in his heart that Louis is also distressed, hurt and anguished, and it’s all Harry’s fucking fault. It’s all his fault and that only serves to make him angrier and more riled up and desperate just to hold Louis, kiss him and apologise and tell him it’s all going to be okay. 

He’s only been gone for five minutes and he’s already pining. 

Except this is past the point of pining. Pining is all he’s done for the past couple of months before Louis was properly his. Pining describes the sleepless nights and the hazy days he spent wondering how Louis is doing and counting down the minutes until they’re back together again. And today felt like a step towards them actually moving out of the pining stages and towards a relationship, only for it all to come crashing down on them both in one fell swoop. 

They’re _soulmates_ , for crying out loud. They’re going to come together eventually and they both know it, but his own selfish, pig-headed desperation took over. They may be soulmates but they’re also people, people who have been living two very lives, neither of which were conventional. And all Louis asked for was a little bit of time and Harry couldn’t even give him that before opening his big fat mouth and ruining everything. 

He’s such a fucking _knothead_. 

Without even realising it he’s crying, tears pouring down his cheeks like he’s a child again. He feels like everything he’s ever loved has been taken from him in one go. like everything he’s ever wanted, worked towards, _needed,_ has been plucked from his arms and he didn’t do anything to stop it. 

He’s worked himself up to the point of no return, shaking and sobbing and trembling. He feels like he doesn’t know where he is, but he does know that he’s in a room that once had Louis in it because he can smell him ever so faintly. He tries burying his face in the sofa cushion and in the blanket he used to nap under, but it’s not enough. He needs _more._ He needs _Louis._

His head is spinning from everything having gone from zero to a hundred miles an hour in barely any time at all. His mouth feels dry, his hands shaking as they try to grip something that isn’t there. 

Louis _isn’t there._

But then he is there. 

He can smell him before he sees him, the familiar wave of summer and berries bringing him back to earth for a split second. 

He’s _there._

“Harry?” 

The sound Harry lets out is somewhere between a growl and a whine, possessive but desperate at the same time.

It’s Louis. It has to be Louis. 

That smell can only be Louis, that’s for sure. 

He opens his arms and blindly reaches for him, but the warm body never comes. He’s in the room somewhere but he doesn’t come to him, not yet. 

“Harry, love, you’re dropping,” Louis’s voice says slowly, matter-of-fact. Harry doesn’t care about what he’s saying, he just _needs him._ “Harry. Love. Do you want me here? Do you need me here?”

Louis’s voice sounds tentative and Harry _hates_ it. “Lou,” he grunts, opening his arms again. He can’t stop _shaking._ “Louis. Need Lou.”

“Okay,” the faraway voice says, then suddenly there’s a warm body pressing itself into his arms, wrapping around his neck. His body instinctively reaches up and cuddles him in, nose twitching. “Harry, it’s me. It’s Louis. You can scent me, darling, you have my permission.”

Harry doesn’t need telling twice. He plunges his nose into where his brain is telling him to, practically smacking his head off whatever bit of body he crashes into. 

It’s a surreal experience, unlike anything he’s ever gone through before. He feels like he’s floating as Louis cradles him to his chest, letting him scent him and hold him, all the while murmuring words of promise and reassurance, reminding Harry that he’s here. Louis is here and Harry’s _safe_ now, safe with him and he isn’t going anywhere, never ever again. 

It’s surreal indeed, but he finally feels like he’s breathing again. 

In and out. In and out. In and out. It’s raggedy and choked and his chest still hurts, but he can breathe again.

At some point, he feels the arms around him start to shift away and he whimpers, but then he feels a gentle kiss pressed into his cheek. “Let’s get you to bed, love,” Louis murmurs, then carefully coaxes him up and leads him away from there, presumably towards the bedroom. 

He doesn’t stop touching Harry even as he helps him use the toilet and brush his teeth, and eventually they topple into bed together, Harry clutching the omega to his chest like he’s scared he’s going to lose him again. 

It’s one of the weirdest nights of Harry’s life. It’s like he’s gone to sleep drunk and he’s woken up hungover, but he already can’t think of what led him to feeling like this. All that matters is he can smell the most calming scent in the world and every time his body begins to feel like it wants to panic again that sweet aroma, whatever it is, washes over him and reminds him that it’s all going to be okay. 

The morning comes eventually, several long hours later. Harry isn’t sure if he even sleeps properly or if he just drifts in and out of consciousness, but it’s definitely a weird feeling when he blinks his eyes open and it’s light outside. 

He’s in his bed but he’s still wearing last night’s clothes, his T-shirt sodden with sweat and sticking to his chest and back uncomfortably. His hair is greasy and feels disgusting as he runs a confused hand through it. 

He blinks at the ceiling several times, unmoving, and then he hears a long, sleepy sigh from under the duvet next to him and he nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“ _Shit,”_ he breathes out, rolling over so fast the duvet falls to the floor. “L-Louis?”

Louis blinks awake sleepily. “Hi,” he croaks, shaking his head against the pillow as he wakes up properly. “Oh god, oh Harry.”

“Hey,” Harry says, opening his arms so Louis can crawl into them, grunting as Louis hugs him so tightly it knocks the wind out of him a bit. “Hey, _hey,_ darling. What’s the matter?” He pauses. “Why… are you sleeping in here?”

Louis’s head flies up. “What do you mean, why am I here?” he shrills. His eyes are wide; _angry,_ almost. “ _Harry.”_

And then it hits him. 

“Oh my god,” Harry breathes out, hand coming up to cradle the back of Louis’s head to his chest. “Oh my god, holy fuck. _Lou.”_

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Louis whimpers. “ _Fuck._ I’m so glad you’re back with me. I was so scared.”

“Shit,” Harry says again. “I don’t… I don’t understand, Louis. What happened?”

“You dropped,” Louis whispers, voice so quiet compared to how it was a few moments ago. “I’ve never seen anything like it, Harry. Alpha drop is so… god, it was so horrible to see. You were just, like, crying for me and rocking back and forth. It was bloody awful.”

Harry has no words. 

He’s _never_ dropped before, never even thought it would be an issue for him because it happens so rarely, and even now he can’t think of what sent him over the edge like that. 

Alpha drop isn’t a common thing by any means. Omega drop is a lot more frequent and well researched and comes with its own stigmas, occurring when the omega is scared or hurt enough that their body essentially shuts down to protect itself. The best way to coax them out of this state is for an alpha to keep them close, protect them and scent them. 

But alpha drop is essentially a state where an alpha works themselves up to a point of no return, usually triggered by the idea that they’re losing their omega for good. It’s been known to turn alphas completely feral and typically presents itself in a violent outburst or an uncontrollable fit of tears. 

It looks as if Harry’s drop presented as the latter, which is probably the silver lining, if one can be found. Harry’s not a violent man and he couldn’t live with himself if Louis had seen him become violent or even, god forbid, he became violent with Louis. Just the thought is enough to make him want to throw up. 

Harry has no idea if Louis has ever dropped, but it’s something that most omegas at least know a bit about when they present and they take their gender-specific sex education classes in school. He certainly wasn’t taught much about alpha drop in his classes when he’d presented as an alpha. He wonders if Louis reacted by treating him like he’d treat an omega who had dropped, or whether he’d just appeared and let Harry scent him and hold him because of their connection. 

Louis moves back and takes Harry’s face between his hands. They stare at each other intensely for a few moments and then Louis leans forward, pressing kisses all over Harry’s face. “Don’t…” _Kiss._ “Do…” _Kiss._ “That…” _Kiss._ “To…” _Kiss._ “Me…” _Kiss._ “Ever again.” His nails dig into Harry’s cheeks. “Ever again, Harry, I mean it.”

“No.” Harry shakes his head and squeezes Louis even tighter. “Never _ever_ again.”

They don’t say anything for a while, just lie there holding each other, and Harry tries to process what happened to him. 

He just can’t believe he _dropped_. 

He dropped and he dropped _hard_ by the sound of things, and Louis ended up back at his flat somehow and picked up the pieces. He was there and he came back to him and put him back together because… because is that what made him drop?

“You left,” he says bluntly, and he feels Louis freeze in his hold. “We had a fight and you left and I had, like, a panic attack or something. And then I dropped.”

There’s a few moments of tense silence but after a bit Louis nods against his chest, swallowing audibly. “That did happen, yes. We did have a fight and it was…” His grip in Harry’s shirt tightens. “It wasn’t good. It made me feel like shit.”

Harry whimpers. He feels like he should be the one who feels like shit and he kind of does. “I remember,” he croaks. “I’m so sorry, Lou.”

“Don’t apologise,” Louis tells him with a shake of his head. “I must have been a right prick back to you for you to… for it to have made you drop.”

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” Harry says, a bit dazedly. His chest feels tight just remembering it. Looking back, they may have both overreacted, but Harry remembers feeling like a part of his soul was walking out the flat and never coming back. He really believed Louis wasn’t coming back. “I thought I’d lost you, like, pushed you away to the point where you didn’t want anything to do with me ever again and that you couldn’t forgive me and I just… it ached, I remember it aching. Like physical pain throughout my whole body and I just felt like I was shutting down.”

“Jesus,” Louis mutters. “I didn’t think it would be that bad, I really didn’t. I just… I can’t even explain, Harry. I got back to my flat and it felt like I’d been fucking stabbed in the chest. My entire body ached because I wasn’t with you anymore and I couldn’t stop crying.” He scrubs a hand over his face and Harry’s grip on him tightens. “And then I got this, like, I don’t even know. It’s like you just said - it was like pain but not physical pain. I can’t explain it. I just knew I had to come back and then Niall called me.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbles. He slides his hand under the bottom of Louis’s shirt, fingers smoothing over the warm skin there. “God, Louis, I can’t even explain how sorry I am.”

Louis snorts. “For what, sunshine? Because we’re probably definitely soulmates who can’t live without each other, apparently?”

“No,” Harry sighs, kissing his forehead. “For saying what I said and causing this whole mess.” He hangs his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, can you tell?”

“Harry,” Louis murmurs. He pecks him on the lips and shuffles closer, hooking their ankles together. “I don’t know what I’m doing either. I just know I wanna do it with you.” He takes a deep breath. “I think… god, okay. I could cry just saying this but like. I want to quit my job.”

Harry’s mouth drops open. His heart leaps in his chest. “You do?”

Louis nods, his grip on Harry tightening. “Yes, I do. I wanna be with you, like long-term. And last night was crazy, fucking crazy, but I can’t imagine…” His voice cracks and Harry scrabbles to pull him closer. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel close enough to this omega. “Harry, if anything had happened to you, it would destroy me too. And I don’t think I realised how much it would have destroyed me until I saw you last night.”

“Same,” Harry mumbles. “I never want to lose you, never _ever._ I’ve never felt like I did last night before. I’ve never even come close to dropping like that, _Jesus._ I just… I couldn’t cope with the idea that I’d hurt you or could have pushed you away when I feel like I need you… I need you to _breathe._ ”

Louis chuckles wetly, wiping a tear from his cheek. “Me too. God, I never… I never imagined feeling like this about anyone but…” He snorts. “I mean, clearly our souls had other ideas.”

Harry laughs and kisses a couple of the stray tears on Louis’s face away. “Yeah, same. Finding you has changed my life and I don’t want to ever be without you.” He kisses Louis on the lips, smiling into the kiss as Louis grips his cheeks and curls even closer into him. “I’m so happy when I’m with you, Lou. I’m so happy to have you. And I’m so fucking sorry, by the way. I should never have said what I said to you yesterday. I wasn’t thinking at all and it was totally spur of the moment, but I said it because I meant it.”

Louis cuts in with a kiss. “I know,” he says gently, shaking his head. “And maybe I overreacted, I dunno.”

“I think you were fully within your rights to act like that.” Harry takes a deep breath, then sighs. He’s so angry at himself for letting it get to this point. “You specifically asked me not to do that, and I did it within ten minutes of you asking me that. What a dick move.”

“Maybe,” Louis muses. “It wasn’t your finest hour, stud, but it also wasn’t mine. I threw a strop like a bloody teenager.”

“It was justified,” Harry insists again, but Louis cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

“Harry, I don’t love my job,” he says quietly, carefully. “I love being independent, sure, but I don’t like what I do to maintain independence. And last night…” His voice cracks slightly on the final word, and Harry holds him tighter. “Last night, when you’d fallen asleep and I was holding you and, like, looking at you…”

“Creepy,” Harry chimes in. Louis swats at him. 

“Look, this is the most gushy I’m ever going to be so you can take it or leave it, stud.”

“I would like to take it, please,” Harry says with a smile.

“I know you’ll not make me stay as a kept omega,” Louis continues, licking his lips. “I know you’ll let me have freedom to do what I want and be what I want and you won’t make me give up my flat or anything.”

“Not at all,” Harry says with a shake of his head. “I want you to be happy, Lou, that’s all I want.”

“I know,” Louis says, then rests one of his little hands over Harry’s heart. Harry wonders if Louis feels the way his heart leaps. “Fuck, like, when I was holding you in my arms last night my brain was going at a thousand miles an hour thinking of all the terrible things that could have happened if I wasn’t able to get into your flat.”

“How did you get into my flat?” Harry wonders aloud. 

Louis snorts. “Niall, obviously. An alarm went off because you hadn’t closed the front door properly and the concierge called him, who then called me because he couldn’t get through to you. Then he came and picked me up and gave me a stern talking to.” He brushes a floppy piece of hair out of Harry’s face and Harry can’t help but lean into the touch. “Told me that he’d been your friend since childhood and you’ve never been like this about anyone before. And that when you went to America after our first time together, you were in pieces the whole trip.”

“I was,” Harry admits. “I thought I was never gonna see you again.”

“I cried,” Louis whispers. “I cried when I got back to my flat after your rut and I cried again listening to Niall talk about you in the car last night. Whether I’m angry with you or not, I still think you’re the best alpha I’ve ever met.”

“I like to think so.” Harry goes to kiss Louis, but Louis shakes his head quickly.

“Can I just finish?” 

Harry nods. “Of course, sweetheart.”

That makes Louis blush. “I like sweetheart,” he comments, smiling softly. “I don’t… I did always wonder how I’d feel about pet names and if I’d always find them sleazy, but I liked that one.”

Harry _can’t_ not kiss him at that. “But talk to me, yeah? If you like a name or hate something I call you, tell me.”

Louis moans happily. “See, this is what I was just about to say,” he tells him, cupping his face. “Niall was flapping around and giving me all these instructions last night and do you know what he signed it off with?” 

Harry shakes his head. 

“He looked at me and went, ‘Harry is the best alpha I’ve ever known, you know. I don’t know why you argued, but I do know that he’s going to be so fucking sorry and that he’d literally do anything for you in a fucking heartbeat.’” He shrugs. “So, I just thought _fuck it._ I’ve got you fucking _dropping_ because you were so distressed at the idea we’d never see each other again and there’s me, hating my job and arguing with the best alpha _I’ve_ ever met, and for what?”

“I get it though,” Harry mumbles. “I mean, on a realistic level, asking someone you’re not even dating yet to quit their job was quite fucking ridiculous.”

“Well, quite,” Louis tuts. “But I mean, if the offer still stands for you to, like, court me, I’d very much like to take you up on that offer.”

Harry smiles so wide his face hurts. 

“Can we just start over then?” he asks. “Like not totally over, because I’d like to keep you in my bed, but pretend we didn’t have that argument and last night didn't happen.”

“Not gonna lie, I think I’m gonna remember last night for the rest of my life,” Louis says dryly, laughing awkwardly. “But yes, let’s not fight anymore. Please.” He yawns and then shakes his head. “I am gonna quit my job though. I don’t… I don’t think being stubborn is worth it to not have you how I want you, as much as I wanna be stubborn.”

Harry chuckles and kisses Louis again. He’s _so_ obsessed with this boy _._ “You’re so lovely, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” Louis grins, kissing the corner of Harry’s mouth. Then he frowns, curling in on himself a bit. “I wanna quit my job but I don’t want this to be an excuse for you to, like, try and move me in or pay for everything or whatever. And I definitely want to keep my flat for now.”

“Of course,” Harry says. “That makes sense. Like, I think we will go the distance but realistically we’ve not really started dating yet.”

“Exactly,” Louis hums. “I might hate you in six months time.”

“ _Hey.”_

“Oh, calm your tits,” Louis tuts, giggling again. Harry can’t help but soften when Louis giggles—he’s so _gone_ —but he knows Louis is joking. He’s pretty sure that Louis couldn’t do anything that would split them up, especially if he’s willing to stay after seeing Harry in the state he was in last night. “And anyway, you’re right. I think we need to trial this out because, like, this is a really big deal for me.”

“Of course,” Harry nods. “And I will help in any way that I can, of course, but feel free to tell me to fuck off if I’m overstepping.”

“Oh, I will,” Louis assures him. He pats his cheek. “I hope you know you’re not getting into a relationship with a pansy who will just let you make all the decisions and shit. This is a two-way street, stud, and I want to make that clear in case you were under any sort of illusions.”

“Sweetheart, I am under no illusions,” Harry laughs. “I am very aware you’re the boss here. I’m just here for the ride.”

“Good,” Louis says, then throws a leg over Harry and climbs on top of him, pinning his arms above his head. Harry could break his hold in a second if he wanted to, but he absolutely, categorically does _not_ want to. “Then you won’t mind if I do this.”

Harry grins at the ceiling dopily, letting Louis kiss down his body and do as he pleases, and thinks that he might just be the luckiest bloke in the entire world. 

He could get very used to this indeed. 

*

The second time Louis sleeps over properly is the first night they stay up all night talking. Harry was all geared up to sleep, lying on his back with Louis tucked under an arm, his fingers brushing through the hair on Harry’s chest. He feels very content, warm and happy and _safe._

But Louis isn’t ready to sleep just yet. 

“Hey,” he murmurs into the darkness, then nips at the skin where the tattoo of the birdcage sits on Harry’s ribs. “I listened to your album last night.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry looks down at him, combing his fingers through the hairs at the base of Louis’s neck. “What did you think?”

“I think you’ve got a cracking voice,” Louis chuckles, nudging closer so he can hike a leg over Harry’s. There’s absolutely no space between them at this point. “And I think you’re a cracking songwriter and all.”

“Thanks, sunshine.” Secretly Harry is preening with pride at the idea that Louis likes it. “Maybe I’ll write the next one about you, if you play your cards right.”

“Oi, dickhead,” Louis scowls, then nips at him harder. “I’m the light of your life, remember? Who begged me into this relationship again?”

“I did,” Harry drawls, leaning down so he can capture Louis’s pouting lips into a quick kiss. “And before you ask, no I haven’t started writing it yet. There’s nothing for you to over analyse.”

“You haven’t started writing it?” Louis asks. “Why?”

Harry shrugs against the pillows. “Dunno. Been busy, I guess, and if I’m honest I’ve not been hugely inspired.”

“Excuse me, Harold,” Louis says hotly. “What’s more inspiring than having _me_ come into your life?”

“Nothing, darling,” Harry laughs. “Nothing could be more inspiring than you.”

“Good,” Louis says, kissing his rib cage again. “Anyway, what was the album about then?”

Harry closes his eyes, throwing his free arm over his eyes. “Having sex and feeling sad.”

“Having sex and feeling sad,” Louis repeats. Harry doesn’t have to see him to know he’s frowning. “Who were you having sex with that was making you sad?”

Harry shrugs again. “Not you,” he says, then cracks open one eye when Louis jabs him sharply on the nipple. “ _Ow_.”

“Obviously not me,” Louis titters, pulling a face at him. “Come on, tell me. I need to know who I need to square up to for upsetting my man.”

“Square up to,” Harry parrots, then snorts. “Yeah, alright.”

He’s barely got time to compose himself before Louis is scrabbling out of his arms and clambering on top of him, straddling him and pinning his arms above his head to the pillow, which makes him squawk. 

They both know it would take zero effort from Harry to break that hold, but Harry quite likes it. The way Louis feels comfortable enough to do this with him on only their second sleepover is kind of hot. 

“What are you doing?”

“Squaring up to you,” Louis says hotly. “Now tell me who your album is about. I wanna know.”

“There isn’t really anyone in particular,” Harry answers honestly. “It’s just like… back when I was writing that album I was kinda numb. I was moving between here and LA a lot more for shoots and meetings and whatever, and that was just before I put my foot down and said no more PR stunts. No more pap walks with random omegas I’d never see again.” 

“PR stunts?” Louis frowns. “You were doing PR stunts?”

Harry snorts. “If you ever thought I was in a real relationship with any of those omegas I got set up with, then I’m a better actor than I thought.”

“I never really thought about it, to be honest,” Louis says. “But it’s nice to know you haven’t got a host of famous exes for me to compete against.”

“There’s no competition anywhere, baby,” Harry promises. “You’re the only one who matters.”

It’s dark in the bedroom, but Harry doesn’t miss the way Louis’s cheeks turn pink. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he grins. 

“I know,” Harry grins back. “But anyway, I was travelling loads and this place was actually being redone at the time so I couldn’t live here. My mum lives too far away up north for me to stay with her. So I was bouncing around between hotel rooms and the beds of strangers, really. It sucked.”

“Is that why you’re so protective around letting people inside your house?”

Harry nods. “This is my sanctuary, you know? When I stepped back in here after all the renovations were finished, I actually cried. It felt like I was finally home after years away.”

“You’re cute,” Louis says. He keeps his grip firm on Harry’s wrists but he ducks down and kisses him soundly. “I’m sorry you went through that.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, mostly for lack of anything else to say. “I know it’s like super first world problem-y, but it was rough for me for a bit.” He grins up at Louis, who is an absolute vision above him. “But I’m good now. Much better. I have my home back and I have you.”

“Flattery _will_ get you everywhere,” Louis says again. He shuffles back a little so the swell of his arse is resting over Harry’s dick, a gorgeous warm presence on top of him. Harry groans but stays put. “And let me ask you this. When you told Jimmy Fallon you would date a fan, was that a lie?”

“Jesus,” Harry mutters. “You’ve done some research, haven’t you?”

“Needed to look properly into what I was getting myself into, didn’t I?”

Harry sighs. He hates that question at the best of times, but hearing it from Louis is something else. “I mean, I think at this point I’d struggle to find someone who didn’t know who I was before I date them given how I live my life. It’s just, like, whether they’re dating me because they want the kudos or the clout or money or whatever, or whether they’re actually interested in me.”

“So you wouldn’t date a fan,” Louis deadpans. “Good thing I’m not one.”

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “I mean, like, I think you have the perfect balance. You knew who I was when we met, and you didn’t pretend that you didn’t because that drives me fucking bonkers, but you’re here…”

“I’m here because we’re connected in body and soul,” Louis simpers. Harry nudges him with his foot. “Yeah, alright, stud. I’m here because I like you despite the fact you’re rich and famous and shit.”

“You like me?” Harry pulls a face. “That’s pretty sappy.”

“Fuck you.” Louis settles back and leans down to kiss him softly, letting go of his wrists so Harry can hold him properly. He grips Louis by the hips and rolls them over so he’s hovering over him, tangling their legs together and kissing him with fire. “My _omega_ likes you. _I_ think you’re pretty average.” 

“Fuck you,” Harry echoes, pulling Louis closer and kissing him with bite. 

“ _Also_ ,” Louis breaks the kiss and glares at him, which makes Harry sigh dramatically. He isn’t finished then. “You can’t get angry at me, knothead, if there’s literally an _album_ out there about you having sex with other people.”

“It makes us even, baby,” Harry tells him, grinning like an idiot as Louis bats him away and pushes him off so he’s lying against the pillows again. Louis’s logic doesn’t always make sense to him, but he’s fucked if he’s going to argue. “We all have pasts.”

Louis cocks an eyebrow. “So it’s fine if it’s you and everyone in the world knows about your past, but when it’s me, the little omega, we don’t tell people because it makes you jealous?”

“That’s a reach, baby,” Harry hums. “Nobody actually knows about the past anyway. All my relationships before you were PR too, you know. You’re my first boyfriend.”

“Shame I came into your life after your album’s all finished then,” Louis drawls. “Think of the songs you’d be able to write when you’ve actually got someone worth writing for.”

“I agree,” Harry says, pressing a firm hand into the small of Louis’s back and dragging him closer, so he’s practically lying on top of Harry. “My third album will make me global, I’m sure. The sappiest collection of love songs to rival the likes of Lionel Richie, Whitney Houston, Adele…”

“I feel like you’re mocking me and quite frankly I don’t appreciate it,” Louis says, poking Harry in the belly button and making him squirm. “So come on, I feel like I need to hear it. The Harry Styles story.”

“The Harry Styles story,” Harry repeats dryly. “Like, my life story or what.”

“What led the illustrious, soon-to-be-world famous Harry Styles to write an album about having sex and feeling sad after five years away from music and a vast change from smash pop hit, _What Makes You Beautiful?_

“ _Hey,”_ Harry pouts. “I’m still very proud of _What Makes You Beautiful,_ you know, and it means a lot to me. It’s not really my current sound, granted, but I’ve never done and nor will I ever do a set without it.”

“I do apologise,” Louis says sweetly, his tone hinting on sarcastic. “You’re right, those lyrics were very meaningful. I _am_ insecure, after all.”

“Lou,” Harry scolds gently. “Don’t be insecure.”

“Amazing,” Louis drawls. “Twenty-six and a half years on this planet and Harry Styles has finally told me not to be insecure in person, so it’s fixed.”

_“Lou.”_

Louis giggles and kisses Harry’s jaw. “I’m teasing. Tell me your story, come on.”

“Only if you’re nice to me,” Harry says, eyeing him carefully. “No pokes in the belly button, nipple cripples, only nice soft kisses.”

Louis shuffles up and slams their lips together, using both hands to keep his face in position so Harry can’t move his head away even if he wants to. When he pulls away with a loud, smacking sound, he smirks up at Harry and flings a leg over his middle so they couldn’t be any closer even if they wanted. “Happy?”

Harry grins, pulls Louis even closer, and begins to tell his story. 

*

It’s a rare day off for Harry today and he’s woken up to an empty bed. 

Frowning, Harry blinks himself awake and then scrabbles for his phone, but he doesn’t have a text from him. Then, he rolls over to Louis’s side of the bed and spots the corner of a post-it note that’s nearly fallen down the back of the bed. 

_Back in an hour ◟̽◞̽ will bring breakfast xx_

Harry frowns even harder. He hasn’t woken up without Louis beside him since they started seeing each other and it’s almost always him that gets out of bed first, whether that’s because he needs to go to work or he’s going for a run. He’s always been an early to bed, early to rise kind of person, and Louis is definitely _not_. 

Louis is absolute garbage at getting out of bed in the morning. Every time Harry’s alarm goes off he’s the first to complain, or if Harry ever tries to sneak out of bed and accidentally wakes him he gets an absolute earful. Come to think of it, he can’t think of a night he’s not fallen asleep and woken up with Louis in his arms, not even to get up for a wee. 

Louis also sleeps like the dead, so there’s no chance that he woke up for an alarm that Harry slept through. 

So where the hell is Louis?

He gets up out of bed and pads through to the en-suite bathroom to have a quick wee, then he heads through to the kitchen and starts making himself a cup of coffee. 

There’s an empty mug next to the dishwasher, so he’s definitely had a cuppa before heading on his way. Harry tries not to overthink too much—Louis is a grown-up who’s survived 26 years without an alpha, after all—but he’s still a little confused that Louis hadn’t mentioned anything to him the evening before. 

As he’s having a day off, he settles in on the sofa with his coffee and switches on the TV, choosing a murder mystery documentary he’s been meaning to watch for a bit. 

It’s about five minutes from the end when Louis reappears, shouting a hello and then appearing a few seconds later. He’s got sunglasses perched on his head, a paper bag from a bakery not too far away in his hand, and a great big smile on his face. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he says chirpily, kicking off his shoes at the doorway and making a beeline for Harry, who barely has time to put his almost-empty coffee mug on the coffee table before he has a lapful of boyfriend. “I got us a bacon sandwich each and then a chocolate croissant each too, and if you don’t want yours I’ll have it, you health freak.”

“Hello to you too,” Harry says, puckering his lips just in time for Louis to twist in his lap and kiss him. “Thanks for this. What’s the occasion?”

Louis grins as he hands Harry over his sandwich. “Well, my dear Harold, I’ve been very busy.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry unwraps his bacon sandwich and takes a bite. It’s perfect, in thick cut bread and with just a light touch of brown sauce, just how he likes it. “Where have you been?”

“First, I had a doctor’s appointment,” Louis says, then takes a bite out of his sandwich, chewing slowly. “I’m fine, by the way, put those panicked eyes away.”

“But what for?” Harry asks, immediately concerned. 

“A sexual health screening,” Louis tells him, then takes another massive bite of sandwich. He takes Harry’s hand in his free one as he finishes his mouthful. “A full one. For everything, like HIV, pregnancy and stuff. The full works.”

Harry feels himself tense up. “Um. Okay, that’s, um, good?”

Louis shoots him a look. “Yes, Harry, it is good. Because _then_ I can swap to a different birth control, one that lets me have proper heats.”

“You don’t have heats?” Harry asks. 

Louis shakes his head. “I have, like, soft ones, I guess you could call them. Every couple of months I go through this thing where I’m really weepy and achy and horny, like I feel like I should be in heat, but I’m not.” He shrugs. “It’s not good to stay on the birth control I’m currently on for too long if I can help it. It’s just the best one I’ve found for, you know, doing the job I used to.”

Harry beams at him. The fact that Louis feels comfortable enough to do this now makes it sound like he’s thinking about spending his heats with Harry, which is some serious relationship shit right there. “So when do you get the results?”

“By next Monday,” Louis says. “I usually get a sexual health check every fortnight because… well, you know why, but I’ve been a bit lax recently. Been a bit distracted.”

“That was careless of you,” Harry hums, leaning forward and giving him a brief kiss. “What could possibly have been so distracting?”

“Some dickhead alpha who can’t take his hands off me.” Louis grins and pops the rest of his sandwich into his mouth before Harry’s able to kiss him again. “Anyway. Once I get the results, I’ll know I’m completely clean. Which means…” He scratches lightly at Harry’s chest, “I won’t need condoms. The next person I have sex with can fuck me bare.”

Harry’s heart starts beating in his ears. “That’s some pretty serious relationship shit right there,” he says. Louis nods. 

“Isn’t it?” he says drolly. “Hadn’t thought of that. The next person I sleep with better be someone I’m pretty serious about, then.”

Harry digs his fingers into Louis’s sides and hauls him closer, cackling as Louis shrieks and tries to bat him off. They end up tangled together with Louis’s wrists pinned above his head while Harry hangs over him, grinning at him proudly.

Louis wants to let him fuck him without a condom and that’s really some serious relationship shit right there. 

The funny thing is, Harry hasn’t even really been thinking about having sex with Louis all that much. 

And given that they’ve already slept together during Harry’s rut, it takes them a bit of time before they have sex with each other again. 

Even when Louis’s results come back (clean on all counts, so he’ll be able to swap to his new birth control once his current course has ended) they don’t jump into bed with each other straight away. It still feels like the early stages of a relationship, like they really are two best friends who’ve recently decided to take the step forward in becoming something more. 

It isn’t that either of them are reluctant to either, because they’re both clearly ridiculously attracted to one another and can barely keep their hands off either other when they’re in the same room, which these days is all the time. They’re always holding hands or pressed together in one way or another, and Harry quite honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. 

They wake up tangled together almost every morning, unless Harry has to leave bed early for work or for a call. They often lie in bed for hours in the morning or way into the night, talking about all topics from politics to pet peeves, learning about the ins and outs of one another, and it really feels like Harry’s gaining a new best friend as well as a lover. 

It might also have something to do with the fact that having sex used to be Louis’s entire life, something he didn’t do for fun, but rather for money. Harry hasn’t pressed much about it because he feels like Louis doesn’t really want to talk about it just yet, and because of that it feels more appropriate for Louis to be the one to initiate it. He wants to make sure it happens organically and on his terms. 

But on a realistic level, the celibacy was never going to last a long time. They’re both healthy young lads who are wickedly attracted to one another while also being metaphysically connected in body and soul, so when they do come together it feels like a natural, perfectly timed progression. 

One night, after a particularly long day of meetings, Harry wants nothing more than a really greasy takeaway pizza, a cold beer, and a cuddle from his boyfriend. He hasn’t left his office in several hours and his back is killing him from being hunched over his desk all day, trying to look not bored as his merchandise team talked on and on about new sweatshirt designs that he _should_ , but doesn’t give a fuck about. 

He hasn’t seen Louis since lunchtime, where he’d shoveled a round of cheese on toast down his throat and left Louis in the living room with the promise of a takeaway and his undivided attention later. And now he’s done for the day and all ready to cash in that promise, because it’s pretty much all he’s been thinking about the entire day. 

“Louis?” he calls as he steps out into the hallway. It’s dark, but he can see some light at the end of it, from the window but also from the big overhead light in the kitchen. “Louis, babe?”

Louis doesn’t answer but as Harry steps down the hallway he realises he can hear music coming from the speakers built into the kitchen units. Once he gets down to the kitchen he sees Louis waiting for him there, leaning coyly against the countertop with his lip between his teeth. He’s wearing nothing but one of Harry’s T-shirts, long on him so it reaches mid-thigh. 

“Hi, stud.”

“Louis,” Harry breathes out. The sunlight from outside is still fairly bright but the sun is on its way to setting, and the way the light hits his face makes him look ethereal. “You’re… fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Louis blushes and ducks his head, giggling lowly as he walks over to Harry and rests his hands on his hips. “Hi,” he says again, then giggles again as Harry wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling them close. It doesn’t feel like Louis is wearing anything underneath his shirt, which serves to make his heart beat faster. “How was your day, love?”

“Long,” Harry says with a groan, leaning forward so he can take a good long inhale of Louis’s scent. He instantly feels calmer and he can feel the heavy weight of today slowly melt away. “Boring. Exhausting.” He nuzzles into Louis’s neck. “You know, I feel like I should care about the merch I put out there, but I just _don’t_. Is that awful of me?”

Louis chuckles and nods against his chest. “You should care. Some people do come out with some truly horrendous merch. If you’re not careful you’ll end up with some diabolical stuff that all your fans will just roast you for on Twitter. Is that what you want?” 

Harry snorts. “I think some of the designs I saw today might fall into that category, not gonna lie,” he says, then he shakes his head. “Anyway. I don’t want to talk about work.” His hands travel down to cup Louis’s arse. “What did I do to deserve you looking like this, huh?”

“Well,” Louis says slowly, walking his fingers up Harry’s chest, hooking his index finger under one of Harry’s necklaces. “You said you wanted a night that was all about us tonight. And I was thinking…”

Harry squawks as Louis pushes their crotches together, leaning into Harry’s space, breath warm on his chin. “Y-yeah?”

Louis blinks up at him, the picture of gorgeous innocence. “Can we make it about us?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry says, leaning down to brush their lips together. “I was thinking we could order in from that pizza place down the road that you’ve wanted to try and then we’ve got the season finale of _Peaky Blinders…_ ”

Louis fixes him with a look. “And after we’ve done all that, will you fuck me?”

Harry can’t help the weird, startled sound that comes out of his mouth. For some reason he hadn’t expected that request, but lord knows why when he’s got Louis like this. “You want to?”

Louis’s face scrunches up and he pulls a face, like he can’t quite believe Harry’s asking him that, and to be fair Harry can’t understand why either. “Harry. You don’t have to be a gentleman about this. Yes, I want to have sex with my boyfriend, even though we’ve already had sex and we’ve been sharing a bed for, like, three weeks.”

Harry grins sheepishly. “Yeah, alright. Fair enough.”

Louis giggles and tugs him down for a kiss. “You’re so lovely, you know that? My big softie alpha.”

“Hey. I’m _rugged_ ,” Harry says with a pout. “I’m very manly and rough and _not_ a softie.”

Louis’s back to pulling a face before Harry’s even finished his sentence. “Yeah, sure,” he scoffs. Then he leans up and tilts his head to whisper in Harry’s ear. “I like that you’re a softie. I like that you’re a big strong alpha manly man but you’ll take me to bed and make love to me because truthfully…” He leans back and looks Harry straight in the eye. “I’ve always wanted to be, like, taken to bed by an alpha knowing they’re going there for me, rather than just to have sex. And I feel like that’s what I’m gonna get with you.”

The familiar feeling of possessiveness is back in Harry’s belly, where he can’t hold Louis close enough, where he can’t bear the idea of anyone else ever going near him. “Of course,” he croaks, brushing his hand over Louis’s pink cheek. It doesn’t feel like the time to make a joke anymore. “Louis, of course I’ll make love to you. We’ll do anything you want.”

Louis giggles shyly and kisses him again, and as he goes to pull back Harry pulls him in again, kissing him languidly, trying to convey how he feels about him with actions rather than words. 

It’s been just over three weeks since he and Louis decided to give this a go, but Harry knows he won’t ever do this with anyone that isn’t Louis ever again. 

“I’ve never, like.” Louis cuts the kiss off and looks at Harry carefully, licking his lips. “It’s never been about me when I’ve had sex. Which is fine because I’m an omega and all…”

“What?” Harry stares at him, hurrying to shake his head. “No, no. It’s always about you too.”

Louis shrugs half-heartedly. “I mean, not when it’s literally your job to make sure alphas get off.”

Harry has to fight the urge to growl. “Not anymore though,” he says, voice edging on snappy. “Let me show you how it should be.”

“Such an alpha,” Louis starts to say, but he cuts himself off with a squawk as Harry lifts him up like a baby, arms around his waist, and Louis’s legs fly up to wrap themselves around Harry’s hips. “Jesus, definitely an alpha.”

“An alpha that’s about to make love to you,” Harry grunts. He makes quick work of moving them to their bedroom and he tosses Louis on the bed, crawling over him. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Louis winds his arms around Harry’s neck and nudges their noses together. “I like that you’re my alpha. I like that you can pick me up and carry me to the bedroom.” 

“Our bedroom,” Harry corrects. “Can I take your top off?”

Louis barks a laugh and it’s probably Harry’s favourite sound in the world. “Ever the charmer, aren’t you?”

“Listen, sunshine.” Harry smacks a kiss onto his lips and then leans back so he can toy with the bottom of the T-shirt. “Technically it’s my shirt so I’m just claiming it back.”

“Right,” Louis nods. “And if I told you I like wearing it because it smells like you? Does that change anything?”

“I think it probably would have this morning,” Harry laughs. “But right now I want you naked so I can make you feel good. Does _that_ change anything?”

“You are such a sarcy bastard,” Louis tells him, but he obediently lifts his arms so Harry can slide the top off of him. Then he reaches down and fingers the bottom of Harry’s own top. “This better come off next.”

Once they’re down to just their underwear they kiss for a long time, the kind of kissing that makes Harry’s head spin, slow and intense and full of passion. It’s the kind of kissing that he feels he could do forever, especially with Louis. When they break apart with a loud smack of lips Harry can’t stop himself from pressing more kisses into Louis’s skin, all over his jaw and down to his neck and chest. 

“You’re beautiful,” he tells him, feeling a little bit light-headed with just how much he wants this. He knows they’ve already slept together but this certainly feels more like their first time. “You’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Louis mewls happily as Harry sucks one of his nipples into his mouth, pink and sensitive. “Harry,” he moans. “Shit, no, I’m the lucky one.”

Harry shakes his head as he continues to kiss down his body, letting his kisses get longer and sloppier as he approaches the waistband of Louis’s boxers. “I will never get over how good you smell,” he murmurs. Down here, he can smell the sharp smell of Louis’s slick mixed with the scent of his pheromones that Harry already loves so much. He tucks his index fingers just inside the fabric. “Can I take these off?”

Louis nods his consent, so Harry makes quick work of tugging the briefs down his legs, tossing them to the floor. He finally lets his eyes drop to Louis’s cock and he nearly gasps. 

He knows he’ll have already seen it while in rut, but now he has the time to properly appreciate it and it’s _gorgeous,_ small and pink and so, so delicate like the rest of him. It’s probably no longer than Harry’s ring finger, definitely no thicker, and it stands hard between his legs. It makes Harry’s mouth water. 

The crisp white sheets under Louis’s arse are damp with slick already. Harry wants to bury his face down there and never come up for air. The smell is overwhelming in the best way and Harry licks his lips before ducking down and kissing the space just above Louis’s cock. 

“You’re seriously perfect,” he murmurs, looking up to meet Louis’s eyes. He curls a hand around his shaft and Louis whimpers. It practically disappears inside his fist. “Bet I could take you in my mouth and it wouldn’t feel like anything.”

Louis laughs breathily. “Maybe. I wouldn’t know.”

Harry pauses mid-kiss. “What do you mean?”

He glances up again, mouth open, to see Louis throw an arm over his red face. “Never had anyone put it in their mouth,”

“ _What_?” Harry sputters out. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Louis huffs, propping himself up on an elbow so he can properly stare at Harry. He looks a little bit like a disgruntled kitten. “I mean that nobody has ever put it in their mouth before.”

“But…” Harry is stunned. Louis used to have sex for a living, for fuck’s sake, how did he never…

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Louis snaps, nudging him with his foot. “My job was to pleasure the alphas, not for them to pleasure me.”

Harry growls and Louis nudges him again. “Sorry. I just…” He moves back up Louis’s body and slams their mouths together, not very coordinated but it’s something he has to do. “You and me, yeah?” Louis nods. “Do you trust me to do this for you?”

Louis kisses him, cradling his face in both his hands. “I trust you.”

“I’m going to make it so good for you,” Harry promises, moving back to his original position and taking Louis’s cock back in his hand, giving it a few gentle tugs. “Here, put your hands in my hair.”

Louis groans lowly as Harry lowers himself down, suckling the head of Louis’s flushed cock into his mouth. His hands tighten in Harry’s hair as Harry sinks down, taking all of Louis’s length down in one motion easily, relishing in the way Louis lets out a guttural moan. 

It’s been a long time since Harry’s given someone head and an even longer time since he’s given head to someone with a dick. He’s almost forgotten how much he enjoys it - making sure someone gets off with just his mouth and his fingers - and that’s exactly how he intends to make Louis orgasm. He wants to fuck him desperately but he’s willing to put his own needs and wants aside at a time like this. He’s going to absolutely savour being the first (and last) person to do this to Louis.

If Louis’s only really had sex for other people’s pleasures, including their first time when Harry fucked him through his rut, then Harry’s going to make sure that he spends their time together fucking him for _his_ pleasure. 

Louis fucking loses it. 

Now Harry knows that nobody has done this to Louis before, it’s kind of obvious. He reacts like he’s not used to being touched at all, his movements jerky and unsure and he’s making these gorgeous breathy moans, like he can’t control himself. 

But Harry remains firm—he grips both of Louis’s thighs in his hands and keeps Louis in his mouth, hot and heavy. His dick is short enough that Harry can slide down to Louis’s balls in one easy moment, and it doesn’t take long for him to build up rhythm, letting Louis’s hips help drive it in and out of his mouth. 

The smell of Louis’s slick is overwhelming in the best way and Harry keeps himself pressed down so he can drink it all in; the heady scent, his soft skin, his virgin cock that’s never been touched like this before. All of this is a new kind of pleasure and Harry knows he’ll never care as much about his own pleasure again as much he does Louis’s. He could spend the rest of his life like this and die a happy man. 

“Gorgeous boy,” Harry whispers, pressing a kiss into each thigh. “Gorgeous, _gorgeous_ boy. I’m going to play with your arse now, is that alright?”

“Yeah,” Louis hiccups. “Fuck, _Harry…”_

Harry wastes no time in getting stuck in—he dives in with his tongue pressed out and starts licking at Louis’s waiting hole in earnest. He isn’t surprised to learn that Louis tastes as good as he smells and Harry feels hungry, positively _starving,_ for it as he licks deeper, coaxing louder, more desperate moans from Louis’s mouth. 

His jaw starts to ache after a while but he’s loathed to stop, not when Louis seems this close to coming. His legs are trembling and he’s writhing under Harry’s hands, whining every time Harry’s tongue breaches his walls. 

Louis sobs as Harry moves back up and sucks his balls into his mouth, then brushes the pads of two fingertips over his twitching hole. Harry nudges the tip of his middle finger inside, just to the knuckle, and Louis moans. 

“ _Fuck!”_

“Am I hurting you?” Harry rushes out, pulling his finger away, but Louis shakes his head and croaks out a no. “Give me a second, let me get the lube.”

The lube is in the bedside drawer on Harry’s side so it’s easy for him to retrieve. Once he’s situated back between Louis’s legs he’s generous with applying it to his fingers, then he leans down and licks at the hole again, getting it plenty wet with spit before he uses his fingers to breach him again. 

One finger slides in easily, then another. Louis is so wet with slick that coupled with the lube it’s easy enough to slide them in, though he makes a mental note to add more before he puts his cock inside him, just to be sure. 

Harry presses his fingers apart in a scissoring motion, stretching him out so he’ll be able to slip in a third finger, and when he does he crooks them upwards towards where Louis’s spot is. 

Louis moans, long and broken, as Harry flexes his fingers up in search of his prostate. “ _Harry._ Yeahhhh, Harry, _fuck_.”

When he comes, it’s with another shuddering cry of Harry’s name and Harry swallows his cum easily, drinking it down before he pulls off Louis’s penis with a _pop._ He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and then crawls back up so he’s hovering over Louis carefully. 

“Baby,” he murmurs, brushing the hair from his eyes. “Baby, you were so good for me, so good.” Louis whimpers and tilts his head up, brushing their lips together but not really a kiss. Harry smiles and leans back again, running his hand down Louis’s hot chest. “Darling, we don’t have to have sex if you’re too tired.”

There are tears pouring down Louis’s face, his chest is covered in marks and red splotches, and there’s sweat dripping down his forehead and temples, but he still manages to level Harry with a look that answers his question. 

“You better fuck me or I’m leaving you,” he croaks, making grabby hands for him. Harry slides up his body and pulls him closer by the hips as Louis winds his arms around Harry’s neck and kisses him. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Don’t thank me,” Harry whispers, nudging his nose against his cheek. He’s so turned on and desperate to get inside Louis but he also wants to hold him for a bit. “This is how it is with us, you and me.”

Louis cups the back of his neck and pulls them closer, wrapping his legs around Harry’s middle. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, kissing him fiercely. “I have to thank you for that because that was… that was special, Harry. That was new and just…”

He trails off as Harry starts to press kisses into his skin, from his jaw to his neck and back up to his lips, gasping loudly as Harry thrusts upwards. He’s not trying to fuck into him, not yet, but Louis is so wet with slick that it’s effortless. 

“You’re perfect,” Harry mumbles, kissing down his jaw. Louis whimpers again as his hand trails down his body, feeling how warm and soft and sweaty his skin is, before Harry tucks it under his bum. “I can’t get over how perfect you are. How lucky I am to have you like this.”

“Kiss me,” Louis begs. “Kiss me then fuck me.”

Harry doesn’t need telling twice. He slams their lips together and lets Louis kiss him for as long as he needs, because he wants this to be all about him. As much as he wants to get to the main event, this isn’t about him. And if Louis wants to be kissed, then so be it. 

He’s painfully hard between his legs at this point, but after a bit Louis breaks the kiss with a giggle. 

“Calm down, caveman.”

“Huh?” Harry didn’t even realise he was basically humping his leg at this point. “Oh, sorry.”

Louis giggles again. He sounds hoarse and a little breathless, but he looks more with it than he did a few minutes ago. “You can fuck me, I’ve said I want to.”

Harry hesitates. “Let me get a condom, one second. _Fuck.”_

Louis props himself up on his elbows and glares at him as Harry scurries into the en-suite, swearing. “Who the fuck doesn’t keep their condoms in their bedside drawer?” he asks incredulously. “God, I’m having sex with a fucking weirdo.”

“Shut up,” Harry grunts as he finally locates the box he stashed away in the bottom drawer. “I put them in here after my rut because I didn’t think I’d need them again any time soon.”

“We’ve been sleeping in the same bed for three weeks and you didn’t think you’d need them again?”

“Listen, sweetheart,” Harry says as he scrambles back onto the bed, leaning back on his knees and fumbling with the packet. “I didn’t plan for this to happen. All I know is before I left for LA I made a point to just do a quick tidy of everything that reminded me of you, because it had been two hours and I was already losing the plot.”

Louis’s expression softens and he makes grabby hands for Harry. “You’re so sweet,” he grins as Harry shuffles back up the bed and kisses him, prick in hand and ready to push inside Louis. Louis smiles into the kiss but doesn’t let it last long, pulling back after a few seconds and shuffling down the mattress so Harry has better access to his hole. “Come on then, stud. Make love to me.”

Harry’s quick to tuck two fingers back inside him just to check he’s stretched enough from earlier, scissoring his fingers gently just to be on the safe side. He pulls them out slowly and wipes them on the duvet before leaning forward over Louis, and with a quick kiss to his shoulder he starts to press inside. 

Louis gasps as Harry breaches him, his back arching up as Harry inches in slowly, slowly, _slowly_ . “Ohhh,” he breathes out, nails digging into Harry’s shoulders. “Ohhh, shit. Yes… _yes…”_

Harry feels like he’s on fire. Louis is a vision underneath him, tight and perfect and everything Harry has ever wanted. He nudges a little deeper, inch by careful inch, until he’s fully tucked inside Louis, his hips flushed to Louis’s arsecheeks.

“Darling,” he grunts as Louis’s mouth hangs open, gasping for air as he adjusts to having Harry inside him. He pointedly doesn’t let himself think about any other alphas who have been here before, who haven’t treated him with the care he deserves. “Darling, am I hurting you?”

“No,” Louis whimpers, pulling Harry down so their foreheads are touching. “I feel… feel so full. Never felt this full before.”

Harry chuckles wetly. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” 

Louis moves their lips together slowly. “Not that kind of full, idiot,” he croaks. “Don’t make me say it out loud. You’re already inside of me.”

“ _Louis_.” Harry feels like he could burst. “Louis, lovely Louis, my perfect boy.”

“Make love to me, Harry,” Louis whimpers. “Make me yours.”

Harry doesn’t need telling twice. He moves back and thrusts upwards again so he can aim for his spot, which pulls a gorgeous, choked out cry from the omega. He bites his lip and brushes his hair from his face as he looks down and then his thrusts forward again, which makes Louis moan once more. 

“More,” Louis begs, locking his legs behind Harry’s back, just above his arse. This way, Harry won’t be able to thrust as hard, it’ll be a slower and deeper fuck, but Harry has a feeling Louis wants it like that. “More, Harry, want _more…”_

So Harry presses forward carefully and tucks his face into Louis’s neck, resting one hand against the mattress for leverage and using the other to cradle Louis’s neck. He feels like he could come just from his scent. “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you. Slow and deep, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis whines, then gasps again as Harry rocks forward. “Feels so different already.”

Harry can’t help the possessive growl that he lets out at that and starts to fuck into him harder. They’ve done this before, of course, but it feels like the first and the millionth time they’ve done this all at once. 

They’ve both been with their fair share of partners in the past, but Louis isn’t wrong when he says it feels different. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever made love to someone before, but he can’t describe this as anything else. It feels like their two bodies are moving together in perfect sync and fusing together to become one complete being. Every touch, every thrust, every moan has more meaning than the last. 

It feels like he’s falling more and more with each movement. 

Louis is tight and loud and so, so responsive, his whole body reacting with every thrust. His hands are everywhere - in Harry’s hair, clutching at his shoulders, leaving marks down his back-and the noises he’s making are breathy and beautiful. Harry doesn’t want this to end but he feels Louis might not be far off. 

“Baby,” he murmurs. “Baby, you close?”

Louis whines and rolls his head from side to side. “Yeah,” he stutters out. “Want… don’t wanna come yet though. Feels too good.” 

Harry nods and thinks for a second, then scrabbles for the pillow on his side of the bed. “Legs around me, love, keep them tight,” he mutters, then he sinks back on his knees and lifts Louis with him, still impaled on his cock. 

Louis yelps and topples forward against Harry’s chest, clearly not expecting it, but stays wrapped around Harry like a spider monkey as Harry sets the cushion underneath where Louis’s hips were, covering the slick-soaked sheet and giving him something to lie on so his hips are raised. 

He lays Louis back down carefully, his cock slipping out of Louis’s hole as he goes, but he makes quick work of stuffing him full again. Louis’s back arches up and Harry takes one of his legs and rests it against his shoulder, kissing the dainty sole of his foot as he drives back into him. From this angle, he can’t fuck Louis as deep, but he can hit his prostate at a more precise angle. 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Louis cries out as Harry thrusts up and hits him where he wants it. “Oh fuck, _Harry,_ this is having… the _opposite_ effect of what I just asked…”

Harry grins and leans down to kiss the protests off of his lips. “Wanna hear you,” he says, which isn’t really a counter-argument, but he’s teetering on the edge himself. “Do you want me to knot inside of you or not?”

Louis moans and nods. “Inside, _inside._ You close?”

Harry nods, punctuating his point with a sloppy thrust. He keeps thrusting into Louis’s tight heat until his balls start to tighten, then he tugs Louis closer by the hips so they’re pressed flushed, ready for his knot to pop. 

“Touch yourself,” he encourages. “I know it can hurt. So, like. Touch yourself if you need to.”

But before he’s even finished his sentence, he moves his own hand up to cover Louis’s little prick, taking it in his fist. It’s so _small_ against Harry’s hand and he doesn’t think that’s something he’s going to get over any time soon. It’s hot and hard and he only needs to give it a few experimental tugs before Louis’s back arches and he _comes,_ sobbing out Harry’s name.

He pulls Harry closer and cuddles him into his sweaty chest as Harry’s knot starts to expand and after a couple of short, sharp thrusts, he shoves inside Louis’s hole so his hips are completely flush to his perineum, then laces their fingers together against the mattress as his orgasm hits him and locks them together. 

“Harry,” Louis breathes out and tilts his chin back, parting his lips for the kiss that Harry gladly gives him. “Harry, oh my god…”

“Baby,” Harry hums, gasping again as more come spurts inside his omega. “Oh my god, you’re so beautiful and we’re _joined._ ”

Louis giggles and pats his cheek. “Is this your first time knotting someone or something?”

“I’ve _literally_ knotted you before,” Harry grumbles, but he’s smiling. “First time knotting someone outside of rut, maybe. First time it feels, like, significant to do so.”

Louis strokes his cheek. “You’re a dreadful sap, aren’t you?”

“Just a little bit,” Harry says. “But I wasn’t the one begging for my alpha to _make love_ to me back there, was I?”

“ _Hey.”_ Louis’s cheeks go a gorgeous shade of pink. “It’s literally in my biological programming, you bully. Also, I didn’t exactly hear you complaining.”

“Baby, I’ll make love to you every day and every night you want me to.” Harry shuffles back and gets more comfortable against Louis’s chest, humming happily as Louis starts to card his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t really know how long they’re going to be locked together for, so he might as well settle in for the long haul. “I loved it. I loved it so much and I love being trapped inside you.”

“Well, aren’t you the last of the romantics?” Louis says dryly. He wiggles his bum against the pillow and clenches around Harry’s knot, which makes him grunt and squirm. “You feel, like, big.”

“You flatter me,” Harry says. Louis swats at him. 

“You’re all the same, you alphas,” he tuts. “Coming along with your pretty faces and your big dicks…”

Harry pins both his wrists above his head and thrusts upwards and Louis _shrieks._ “But I’m _your_ alpha,” he growls, half joking and half possessive. “And you’ll do well to remember it, sweetheart.”

“Hard to forget when you’ve got one of these big alpha dicks up your arse,” Louis points out. “Yes, darling, you’re my alpha and…” He wiggles his hands out of Harry’s and brings them up to Harry’s face, coaxing him down so he can bring him down to whisper something in his ear. “And you just gave me the best sex of my life, so take from that what you will, _alpha.”_

Harry’s heart skips several beats. _Best sex of his life._

“Best sex of mine too,” he says, his expression suddenly softening. “Fuck, come here.”

Harry’s knot doesn’t go down for nearly half an hour, but they’re kissing too much really pay attention to it.

Best sex of his life and they’ve barely even begun. 

*

Now they’re officially courting, leaving Louis gets harder each time he has to do it.

This time it’s only overnight, up to Manchester for an interview on a chat show, but it doesn’t make it any less shitty when he has to do it. What’s currently making it harder is that he’s barely packed because Louis hadn’t let him leave the bed for pretty much the entirety of last night so he’s running behind this morning, reluctantly removing himself from Louis’s arms and shoving random bits and pieces into an overnight bag that he hopes make sense for a night away.

His suit and shoes as well as his guitar are travelling up there by bus, so all he really needs is his stuff for tomorrow and some toiletries. After this interview, he’s got three days off for the bank holiday before he’s off for a shoot in Scotland the following week, and he intends to spend all three of those days in his bed, and preferably _in_ Louis.

Speaking of Louis, he makes a noise from their bed and Harry turns to see him pouting and making grabby hands for. “Hey, stud. Come here.”

“I have to leave in ten minutes,” Harry warns, but he climbs back into bed anyway. “God, maybe I’m not. Maybe I’ll just stay here.” 

“Yes, you should,” Louis agrees, tilting his head to one side so Harry can nuzzle into him. “Work stupid. Bed good.”

“It’s only one night,” Harry protests, but he doesn’t really know why he’s protesting. He doesn’t want to go at all. “Holy shit, you smell divine.”

“I know,” Louis says, sounding pleased, then he sighs dramatically. “What am I meant to do in this great big flat all by myself?”

Harry pokes him in the belly button. “Apply for more grad programmes? Actually cook that curry you keep saying you want to try, but I think sounds rank?”

“Wank off in your bed that smells like you?” Louis says, blinking at Harry, the picture of innocence. He’s a fucking menace and Harry doesn’t want to leave him ever again. “Hey, are you planning on taking that jumper you’re wearing with you?”

“This one?” Harry says, pointing to the lavender jumper he’d thrown on this morning. It’s probably too warm for it, but it felt like a nice, summer colour. “Well, yeah, baby, that’s why I put it on.”

“Could you maybe not wear it?” Louis asks coyly. “And leave it for me?”

“What, so you can wank off while wearing it and I won’t be able to watch?” Harry pouts. Louis nods happily. “God, you’re a menace.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You know it’s a yes,” Harry grumbles, leaning back so he can wrestle the jumper over his head. “It’s probably too warm for me to wear anyway.”

“You’re so good to me,” Louis simpers, taking the jumper and tucking it under his pillow. He presses a quick kiss to Harry’s lips, just a peck. “Right, I got what I wanted. You can go now.”

“Oh, really?” Harry bites at Louis’s shoulder and rolls him onto his back, pinning his wrists up against the pillows, holding firm as Louis shrieks and attempts to kick him off. 

It’s enough to distract him into missing three calls from Niall letting him know he’s outside in the car, but eventually he leaves Louis very reluctantly with a lingering kiss, a pinch on the bum, and the promise of lots of sex upon his return. 

Harry’s interview is for a Friday night chat show that gets a decent audience, and he’s going to be playing his new single as well as having a chat. He checks into his hotel at noon, has a shower and a wank and a bowl of cereal, then Niall comes and finds him and they share a car over to the BBC studios. 

It turns out to be one of the worst interviews Harry’s done in a long time. 

He’s done a lot of shitty interviews in his time. He remembers the worst interview he ever had, when he was only seventeen and the interviewer—a blonde American lady he didn’t know—had basically accused him of being in a relationship with an older female TV presenter he’d only met once, and even though Harry had vehemently denied it again and again, she didn’t seem ready to believe him unless he’d agreed to go for a drink with her after the show. It was all an uncomfortable mess and his management had barely stepped in to do anything. Any press is good press, after all. 

Since Niall has taken over as his manager, questions about his love life are usually carefully scripted and only included in interviews when he’s in a PR relationship, but his last forced coupling ended nearly a year ago when Kendall met an actual alpha who she wanted to bond with. 

There’s no bad blood between them and he supposes this is the longest he’s been single in the eyes of the public for a while. The fact that most of his relationships or flings have been in the public eye makes him an interesting topic, he supposes, but it still catches him off guard because he’s got an album coming out in a few months, a film for Amazon that recently wrapped up and with the trailer released last week, and he’s the lead alpha model of Gucci for one of their global campaigns. 

His face has been plastered on a billboard in Times Square for the past week and a half, yet all they ever seem to want to do is ask him about his fucking love life. 

Luckily, he’s pretty good at schooling his face like he’s actually interested in the question and not screaming inside his head. 

Not very good, but _pretty_ good. 

“And your love life, _of course_ we have to talk about your love life,” the host says merrily, and Harry forces his grin to stay as neutral as possible or else it’ll become a grimace. “You’re no longer with the lovely Kendall Jenner, are you?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, and you’re right. She’s nothing but lovely and I have all the respect in the world for her. She’s just opened her own tequila business, I've seen.” 

“Yeah, she has,” the interviewer chuckles. “Was that something she was working on when you were together?”

“On and off,” Harry says, frowning because this has nothing to do with him anymore. If the show wasn’t live, Niall would probably step in at this point. 

“Did she need it towards the end?” the host mocks, elbowing Harry like they’re friends, and the audience all laugh. Harry’s eyes go wide.

“Um, I hope not?” is all he can muster for a reply. 

“So, she’s now happily mated and you’re still single.” The host tilts his head to one side, jutting out his lip as if he’s sad for him. “Is there anyone in the pipeline? Anyone you’re seeing?”

Harry balks. Normally he wouldn’t get asked a question like this unprompted, unless it’s his marketing team’s way of putting out the feelers early. 

And this time, he’s actually got someone else’s feelings to consider. Louis definitely isn’t ready to go public yet—as far as Harry knows, the only person who knows that he’s even got a boyfriend is his eldest sister—but he doesn’t want to lie either. The last thing he ever wants is to give Louis the impression that he’s a dirty little secret. 

“I’m, um, I met someone recently,” he admits, looking down at his lap. The audience _oooh_ and clap. “It’s early days, of course, but they’re, um, very special to me and we’re having fun. I’m a very happy man.” He looks up and levels his interviewer with a careful gaze. “And that’s all I’m going to say for now.”

To his credit, the interviewer doesn’t press, he just encourages the crowd to cheer them on, which is the best case scenario for now. He has no intention of saying anything more—hell, he’s already worried he’s said too much—and just smiles through the applause. 

The rest of the interview is truly forgettable; he’s asked about what he’s got coming up for the rest of the summer and if he’s planning on touring next year, and then he sits politely through the musical performance and praises her no end as the curtains roll. 

They’ve been invited to evening drinks in the green room but he asks Niall to politely decline on his behalf. He can’t imagine anything _worse_ than hobnobbing with that same awful host. He makes a mental note to tell Niall he never wants to be booked on this show again. 

Once he’s back in his dressing room, he grabs his phone and immediately shoots a text to Louis.

 **_Harry:_ ** _so i may have announced that i’m in a relationship on the show? no names or genders or any hints to who you are, but they backed me into a corner, i’m so sorry. please don’t be mad xxxxxxx_

He wonders if Louis watched it and if that’s why he hasn’t texted him back yet. Maybe Harry admitting that he’s in a new relationship, even though he gave no indication of anything to do with gender or duration, was too much and it freaked him out. 

_Or maybe he’s just asleep,_ he tries to rationalise. _Or FaceTiming his sister like he said he might._

In a bid to distract himself, he has a long shower where he washes out all the product from his hair and the makeup from his face, and then wanks away some of the tension, working himself fast and loose, picturing Louis curled up in his bed wearing nothing but his favourite sweater. It doesn’t take him long to come thinking of that, then once he’s out, he brushes his teeth, rubs some moisturiser into his face, then pads over to his bag for his phone charger before sliding into bed naked. 

He plugs the charger into the wall and his phone screen illuminates, showing him he has a text back from Louis. 

**_Lou:_ ** _I’m not mad!!!!!! i think you did bloody brilliant if I’m honest babe. Interviewer was a right cunt if you ask me. Are you back in your hotel room yet? Get yourself off to sleep, you’ve had a shit day, think of me in your sweater instead :D :D :D_

It’s accompanied by a picture of Louis in said sweater, a photo taken in the mirror in their bedroom. His bare legs are still littered with bruises that Harry left there a couple of nights ago and the hand not holding his phone is scrunched up in the sleeve to make a little sweater paw. 

He can almost smell him from here and it makes him _long_ for him. If he hadn’t just come in the shower, the image alone would be enough to make him chub up again. 

**_Harry:_ ** _you look gorgeous my darling. interviewer was a right prick!! wish i could come back to you tonight :(_

 **_Lou:_ ** _12 hours to go love. now get some sleep. hump the pillow and pretend it’s me if you need to :D_

 **_Harry:_ ** _filthy boy!!!!! ;) miss you so much, sleep well babe xxxx_

 **_Lou:_ ** _sleep well love xxxxxx_

It’s a long, uncomfortable night in a bed that’s too stiff and with sheets that smell too freshly laundered. It’s his first proper night away from Louis and he decides then and there that he’s going to make Niall book Louis on trips with him because he now knows he can barely sleep without him anymore. 

A month into a relationship and he’s become the exact type of lovesick fool he used to mock others for being. 

When he finally arrives home the following day after what feels like hours stuck on the motorway he’s feeling antsy as fuck. He can’t wait to have a beer and order takeaway from his favourite Thai place, but most of all he can’t wait to have a certain someone back in his arms. 

Part of him expects Louis to practically run to him the moment he hears the key in the door, but he doesn’t. Instead Harry finds him fast asleep on the sofa, wrapped in the duvet from Harry’s bed, a cold cup of tea on the coffee table in front of him. 

The flat looks a little bit like a bomb has hit it in the twenty-four hours that Harry’s been away, but he couldn’t give less of a shit. He’s _home_ after an interview that made him feel like total shit and Louis is _here,_ he hasn’t left, and all the mess feels rather domestic and intentional, almost _homely._

It feels like Louis is nesting here. 

There’s something so soothing about watching his omega sleep and he instantly feels more at home from just seeing him. He discards his bag and shoes to one side easily and carefully clambers over to him, sliding under the duvet and rearranging Louis in his arms. 

Louis sleeps like the dead and could probably kip through the roof caving in, true to form he just makes a pleased noise and buries into Harry’s warmth, but stays blissfully asleep. Harry kisses the top of his head and takes a deep breath, the familiar smell doing wonders for his mood. 

He ends up dozing off with Louis pressed to his chest and he wakes up to a kiss, soft lips pressing against his again and again while he blearily blinks himself awake. “Wha…?”

“Kiss me back, asshole,” Louis grumbles, slotting his leg around Harry’s middle so he’s sat snug in his lap. “I know you’re awake, _kiss me.”_

“I’m awake,” Harry mumbles against his lips, sitting up a little straighter and wrapping his clumsy arms around Louis’s shoulders. “God, I’m awake. Hello.”

“ _Kiss me,”_ Louis whines, pulling back and shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, you have one job.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Harry smiles into the kiss and pulls him closer. “Mmmm, I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Louis says, then he starts peppering little kisses down Harry’s jaw and neck. “Bed was too big without you here.”

Harry groans. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I had it my way I’d never leave you again.”

Louis grins and finds his way back to Harry’s mouth, snuggling closer and licking into his mouth, long and languid. They kiss for a long time—Harry honestly has no idea how long for—until their mouths slow and their kisses become shorter, firmer pecks, not taking it any further because they’re just happy to be back with one another. That’s enough for now.

“How was it?” Louis murmurs after a bit. He slides a hand under Harry’s shirt, drumming his fingers softly against Harry’s stomach. “Was it a good interview?”

Harry groans. “No,” he says flatly. “You saw it. It was bloody awful.”

Louis shakes his head. “I’m sorry, baby. Was that worse than usual interviews? Sorry, I don’t really watch many of these shows so I haven’t got anything to compare it to.”

It seems like such a juvenile problem when he has to say it out loud. “It’s just the same every fucking time.” Harry sighs and rubs at one of his eyes with his fist. “I’ve just done a Gucci campaign that made it to Times Square. My second album has a release date and I’ve got two movies with big names scheduled to start filming in the new year, plus a world tour with dates to be announced, and all they want to ask me about is who I’m shagging.”

Louis’s face drops. “I’m sorry, love.”

“And I didn’t want to lie, so when I told them that it’s early days, but I’m very happy I meant it.” Harry shrugs. “And then I tried to steer it back to, like, what I’m actually on the show for. I don’t get it. What’s the point of asking me on the show if you don’t care about what I’m doing as a person?”

“It seems like they care too much about _who_ you’re doing,” Louis says sadly, and Harry nods. “God, that’s really shit, babe. That’s not fair.”

“I should be used to it by now,” Harry mutters, feeling irritated at himself that he’s letting this bother him so much. He really didn’t want to bring this home. “Sorry. I don’t mean to bring things like this home when it’s not your problem.”

“It’s very much my problem,” Louis pouts. “I’m the one who’s being shagged.” He kisses Harry’s jaw. “I guess I better get ready for things like this. Speculations and stuff.”

“Maybe.” Harry kisses his temple. “Sorry, I don’t want to be mopey. It’s just the first time I’ve ever had to admit a real relationship on camera, and really I wanted a bit longer to keep you to myself.”

Louis grins and shakes his head. “Good save, stud.” He kisses Harry softly. “Guess we’ll need to watch out for paps when we pop to Tesco now.”

“I’m always on pap watch,” Harry tuts, kissing Louis again. “How was your evening?”

“Boring.” Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and pulls them closer. “Lonely. Your bed is too big for one person.”

“Don’t I know it?” Harry hums. “Did you find stuff to do? Watched the telly and stuff?”

“ _Well,”_ Louis says. “I watched a whole series of _Scrubs_ , I cleaned the bathroom and I ordered a pizza.”

“Sounds delightful,” says Harry. 

“Why is _why_ I wanted to ask,” Louis asks slowly, twisting his finger into one of the strings on Harry’s hoodie. “I know you just got back and we’ve missed each other loads and shit, but I wanted to ask if I can go home?”

Harry panics a little. Louis wants to _leave?_ Right after he’d just thought to himself how much it was starting to look like Louis’s flat as well?

The worry must show on his face because Louis cups his face in his hands and shakes his head hurriedly, then leans forward to press a few quick, gentle kisses to his cheeks and jaw. 

“I’m not leaving, like, for good,” he assures him, then moves to kiss him on the mouth this time. “I just realised, like, while being here by myself how little of the stuff in this flat is mine. Like I literally have my phone charger, a deodorant and a few clothing items. I’ve been wearing your boxers for a week now.”

“I like you in my clothes,” Harry croaks. 

“I like wearing your clothes,” Louis promises with an impish grin. “But I need my laptop if I’m going to start on PhD applications and I want a few more bits.”

“Well, I mean, of course,” Harry says, resting his hands on Louis’s hips. “I can’t keep you here. Would you… come back tonight?”

Louis puffs out his cheeks and crosses his eyes, pulling that stupid face he always does when he thinks Harry’s being dense. “Are you not coming with me?”

“You want me to come with you?”

“Well, I feel like you should spend at least _one_ night in my flat,” Louis shrugs. “See how your other half lives and all that.”

“Of course,” Harry nods. “Of course I’ll come with you.”

Louis beams and darts forward and kisses him. “You're not going to be very impressed. I live in a total shithole. But it’ll mean a lot to me if you come by my shithole.”

Harry grins and pulls him in closer, kissing him soundly. “I can’t wait,” he says honestly. He’s secretly been wondering what the inside of Louis’s flat is going to be like, and even though he doesn’t want Louis to go back there because he wants them to spend every night together, he’s still excited to see what it’s like. And the idea of their trip seems to be to collect enough stuff that Louis doesn’t have to go back there any time soon, which makes it even _more_ exciting. 

Louis squeezes his knee. “Well, okay. We’re going to need to bring some food with us. I can’t imagine anything in my fridge is still good to eat.”

Harry pulls a face. “We’ll pack a little box together. And let's just order in when we get there, yeah?”

Louis grins even wider. “God, you know the way to my heart.”

“I try,” Harry hums. “When do you wanna go? I’ll drive.”

Louis snorts. “You can’t drive, stud. We’ll get an Uber.”

“Why not?” Harry asks, brows furrowed. “No, I’ll drive, don’t worry. Then tomorrow we can fill my car with all your stuff and not have to worry about how much we can carry.”

“Harry.” Louis looks at him like he’s stupid. “You drive a black Range Rover with tinted windows and a personalised reg. You cannot drive that into my neck of the woods.”

“But if we get an Uber it’ll just be more of a faff,” Harry tries to argue. “Have you got, like, underground parking I can leave it in?”

“ _Harry.”_ Louis shakes his shoulders. “You’re not getting what I’m saying, are you? There is _no_ parking. I live in a studio on the 13th floor of a truly shitty flat block. People who live in studios on the 13th floor in my part of London don’t have parking. We can’t afford cars and we take the bus with the rest of the plebs.”

Harry winces. Maybe he’s more out of touch than he thought. “Ah,” he says stupidly. “Okay. I understand.”

Louis slaps his palms on Harry’s cheeks. “Don’t pout at me, rich kid. An Uber will be fine. I really don’t have that much stuff. You’ll understand when you get there how little I really have.”

“If you’re sure,” Harry croaks. He feels like a fool. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Maybe,” Louis muses, his grin boyish and wide. “But it’s cute. And I’m not poor or on the breadline or anything, I hope you know that. I have lots of nice things and I make— _made_ —okay money. It just doesn’t go very far in London.”

Harry nods again. He suddenly feels more nervous than he did five minutes ago. “Shall we get ready to go?”

“Sure,” Louis nods. “I’ll throw a backpack of clothes together, you get some food out the kitchen?” He giggles. “God, I have no idea where my house keys are. That’s bad, isn’t it?”

“I put them in the drawer of general stuff in the kitchen,” Harry says. “Just in case you thought you’d lost them.”

“Oh, you do look after me,” Louis simpers, crawling back and kissing him once again. “You’re really rather lovely, in fact.”

“I try,” Harry murmurs, fighting the temptation to pull him even closer and just kiss him breathless. He’s missed him like crazy, but they’ll never get out of here if he lets himself kiss him for much longer. “Come on, sunshine. As much as I wanna kiss you, I can do that in your flat just as well as I can here.”

Louis shoves him away and scampers off to the bedroom, and Harry grins to himself all the way through packing together their little food package to take with them, filling a carrier bag with milk, cereal, bread, butter, teabags and instant coffee, some snacks and some Diet Coke for Louis. He sets it on the side and then heads towards the bedroom, but he ends up meeting Louis halfway, who has one of Harry’s Gucci duffel bags stuffed to the brim in his hand. 

“Is this bag okay to use?” he asks brightly. 

“Sure,” Harry says. “Is that both of our stuff?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s just some clothes for tomorrow, our toothbrushes and your wash bag that you haven’t yet unpacked.”

Harry nods. “No pyjamas?” he says coyly. 

“You’ve never slept in pyjamas a night since I’ve known you,” Louis tuts. “Have you called an Uber yet?”

Harry pulls his phone out of his back pocket and does just that. “Ten minutes,” he tells him. 

Louis nods again. “Cool. Also, I had a thought. What car does Niall drive?”

“Um, a Nissan Juke,” Harry says. “Why?”

“Could he come and pick us up in the morning?” Louis asks, biting his lip. “I know you’re both technically on some time off but, like, as a favour to his best friend’s boyfriend rather than as your manager.”

“I’m sure he would,” Harry says. “He’s my best friend first and my manager second, you know. He’d probably be more than happy to help.”

“Can you text him?” Louis shifts awkwardly from one foot to another. “Sorry. I feel bad even asking but I feel like if he can, it _would_ make the trip back easier. I mean, I don’t even know how much stuff I’ve got that’ll need to be brought back, but just in case.”

Harry shoots Niall a quick text message with his request and then traipses back to the kitchen to grab the bag of food and the keys. They head downstairs and out towards the waiting Uber, and then they’re on their way. 

It takes about half an hour to drive there through the busy London streets. Eventually they pull up outside a flat block that looks indistinguishable from the ten other flat blocks that look exactly the same around them. 

“Well, here we are,” Louis says, looking awkward and… _embarrassed_ , maybe? “Home sweet home.”

Harry hates the way he probably looks like a total snob and also majorly out of place as he shuffles behind Louis as they head inside the building and up towards his flat in a lift that smells like cigarette smoke. There’s about six other flats on his floor and Louis leads him down the hall to the one furthest away from the lift, then fumbles to open the door with his key. 

He almost gasps when they step inside. 

The whole flat is probably smaller than his master bedroom. Immediately to the left of the front door is another door that leads to a small bathroom, and then straight in front of them is Louis’s bed, pushed against the far right wall. 

Louis gestures him inside and he walks towards the bed to put their overnight bag on it. When he glances to his left, he sees the kitchenette and a little sofa area with a small TV mounted to the opposite wall. Just next to the sofa is a small desk covered in papers and a couple of mugs that Harry hopes to god are empty. 

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” Louis mumbles, winding an arm around Harry’s waist. “What do you think?”

“It’s very you,” Harry notes, gesturing to the Doncaster Rovers poster that's tacked above the oven. There’s clothes all over the floor next to the bed and more mugs on the bedside table. “It’s nice to see you’re messy everywhere, I guess.”

Louis pinches his bum. “Cheeky bugger.” Harry winds an arm around his shoulder and kisses him on the crown of his head. “I know it doesn’t hold a candle to your place.”

“But it’s yours,” Harry says matter-of-factly, hoping he doesn’t come off as awkward as he feels. The place isn’t awful by any means, it’s just radically different from his own, and he’s starting to think that maybe he’s a bit more snobby than he thought he was. 

“It’s a shithole,” Louis says flatly. “But I promise you it’s relatively clean and I promise I’ll only make you stay here one night. That’s if you don’t mind me coming back with you tomorrow, of course.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Harry promises, kissing him again. “Shall I put the milk and stuff in the fridge?”

Louis breaks away from the hold and wrinkles his nose. “I wouldn’t. Here, I’ll do it because not gonna lie, I don’t know how many dodgy takeaway containers from a couple of months ago will be in there. You don’t deserve that.”

Harry chuckles and takes a few steps backwards to look inside the bathroom. It’s not the smallest bathroom in the world, but it certainly isn’t fancy, nothing more than a bath with the shower inside it, a small sink and then a toilet. 

“Is there much to pack up in here?” he calls out. 

“Stay well back,” Louis yells, which makes him freeze and his eyes go wide in panic. “Oh my _god._ Holy _shit._ This fridge is disgusting.”

Harry bursts out laughing. “Oh shit. What did you leave in there?”

“What _didn’t_ I leave in here?” Louis shrills. “There’s cheese, eggs, so many tubs of takeaway I don’t know what’s what anymore…”

Harry dares to poke his head around the corner and the smell hits him like a bloody juggernaut. “Jesus _Christ.”_

“This is foul,” Louis whines. “Fucking hell. Okay, um. Let me get a bin bag and I’ll just bin the whole load and soak the shelves in the sink. Can you, um.” He doesn’t even finish his sentence before he bursts out laughing. “This is _not_ how I wanted to introduce my boyfriend to my flat.”

Harry giggles and pinches his nose, heading over to the sink to fill it with hot water. “Hey, I feel like I’m partly to blame. I’m the one who’s been essentially holding you hostage.”

“Yeah, well.” Louis tucks his nose into his sweatshirt and starts to gingerly toss things into the bin bag. “Doesn’t really soften the blow, darling, sorry.”

They spend the best part of an hour cleaning the fridge and then after that they move onto packaging Louis’s clothes, books, X-box and various knick-knacks into the two suitcases and two crates they brought with them. 

“Do you want to bring any of your kitchen stuff back?” Harry asks as he starts rummaging through the cupboards for a clean mug. He opens up the drawer next to the sink and instead of finding cutlery, he finds it full to bursting with takeaway menus. “Or is cooking something you only do at my place?”

Louis snorts. “I am lazy and always tired and I like the noodles the Golden Wok do better than anything I’ve ever cooked.”

Harry snorts. “I guess that’s what we’re having for dinner then.”

Louis’s face lights up. “Oh my god, can we? _Yes.”_ He moves over from where he’s been unstacking a bookshelf. “You’re the best. It’s my _favourite_ takeaway in the whole world.”

Harry makes a mental note to bring the takeaway menu with him so he can get it special delivered for Louis in the future. “Are you hungry now?”

Louis nods. “For a Golden Wok? Always.”

Harry orders their dinner and they eat it cross-legged on the floor (Harry doesn’t think it’s anything to write home about, but the look of pure delight on Louis’s face while he’s eating it is worth its weight in gold). After that, Harry washes up while Louis finishes packing the last of his clothes while _Superbad_ plays on in the background. Neither of them realise how late it is until the credits roll and the news anchor announces it’s just gone midnight. 

Harry’s knackered from what feels like the longest day ever and he’s not really looking forward to a second night in a different bed, but this flat definitely feels more homely than the hotel room he stayed in last night. He has a quick shower and then brushes his teeth while Louis has his own shower, then he pulls on a clean pair of boxers and pours himself a glass of water. 

Harry pulls back the duvet, ready to climb into the bed, but then he spots two ripped, rumpled tissues on the pillow, which he eyes suspiciously. “Are these, like, jizz tissues?”

Louis pokes his head out the bathroom door and snorts. “Not jizz tissues, no. More like sad tissues from when I walked out of your place that one time and came back here to have a good cry before Niall rang me and told me that you’d dropped.”

“Oh.” Harry’s face falls and moves the tissues quickly to the waste paper basket. “That’s…” He trails off, suddenly feeling awkward that the last time Louis was in this bed, he was crying about losing him. 

Louis flicks off the bathroom light and shuffles over to him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle. “Hey. Don't go all mopey on me.” He kisses Harry’s chin. “Your scent goes all different and, like, _off_ when you talk about dropping.” He climbs onto the mattress and makes grabby hands for Harry, who obediently gets into bed after him. “I’d say it worked out okay though, wouldn’t you?”

Harry pulls the duvet up so it’s tucked up over both their shoulders, keeping them safe and snug. “Yeah, okay. You’re not wrong there.”

“I am always right,” Louis titters, then pulls Harry in closer and kisses him, slow and passionate. “God, you’re just…” He shakes his head. “I’ll never get over this. Harry Styles is in my bed in my stupid dingy tower block and he’s here because he wants to be.”

Harry pulls him closer and kisses him again. Louis smells like pure contentment and sleepiness. “Oh, I very much want to be here. There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be, remember?”

A car alarm suddenly starts blaring outside and they both jump, but then they both burst out laughing. 

“It’s certainly quieter at your place,” Louis chuckles. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologise.” Harry leans behind him to flick off the bedside lamp and then tucks Louis into his hold, kissing the back of his neck. “Get some sleep, my darling. I can smell how tired you are.”

“Pair of stinky boys together,” Louis smiles, pulling Harry’s arm across his middle. “Goodnight, love.”

He normally doesn’t sleep well at all in beds that aren’t his own, but despite the fact that it’s loud and bright and _still_ smells like cigarette smoke, even in Louis’s own flat, he sleeps better than he did without Louis, that’s for sure. 

They head back in the morning in Niall’s car, who insists on Harry buying him a McDonald’s breakfast from a drive-thru as a thank you. It only takes the three of them one trip to bring all of Louis’s things upstairs to their penthouse and less than two hours to unpack it all. 

Louis doesn't mention going back to his own flat again and Harry makes a point to _never_ bring it up. 

So it looks like they’re living together now. Cool. 

*

Despite only voicing a couple of weeks ago that he wants to keep Louis to himself for a little while longer, it doesn’t last as long as he originally plans. 

He’s mentioned to his mum that he’s seeing someone and he’s left it at that, but his mum knows him well enough not to press. She’s no stranger to his crazy life, of course, and has been made to do a few pap walks with him and his PR partners in her time, once even accompanying him on a planned holiday.

His former PR company (before he shafted them and moved to one that doesn’t insist on PR stunts and fake relationships) had said his relationship with Kendall didn’t seem _real_ enough so they’d arranged for him to go on a week-long yacht trip with her and some of their friends. 

They’d organised it behind Harry and Niall’s back and given them too little notice to say no, so he’d fought back and insisted he was only going if he could bring his mum, which they’d agreed to. 

“I’m sorry about this,” he’d croaked to her on the first night, wrapping her in his arms. “I know you hate boats, for one.”

“Oh, hush. Anything for you,” she’d promised him, wiping a stray tear from his face. “I mean it, my darling. I know it feels like shit now but I’m going to be here as long as you need me to be. What are mothers for if not for things like this?”

Harry had sniffed a hideous, snotty laugh. “I don’t think most mums have to accompany their grown son on a fake boat trip that’s purely for the sake of the paparazzi.”

Anne had shaken her head and kissed his cheek. “Yeah, well. You always had a little more flair than most, sweetheart.” She slid her hand into his. “I’m serious, though. Anything for you and I mean that.”

Harry thanks his lucky stars after every single conversation he has with his mum because she understands that he’s living a different life to most men in their mid-twenties. She knows that Harry will tell her everything he needs to (because even though he’s a fully grown alpha in his mid-twenties, sometimes he really does need his mum) and withholds some things she doesn’t, because there really are things sons don’t need to tell their mothers. 

Harry’s dating and sex life has been in and out of the tabloids since he was a teenage boy and something he’s always found to be truly awful is the idea of his mother reading about how he treats his partners in bed or how big his dick is. He’s gotten better with it now, but at the beginning he was _mortified,_ and now there’s sort of an unspoken agreement between them that Anne doesn’t ask unless Harry offers the information out himself. She certainly doesn’t go searching his name on Google News anymore like she first did when he’d started to get big. 

And it’s not that he’s _nervous,_ per se, to tell his mum what Louis used to do for a living, not at all. He’s just not ready to share the nitty-gritty details of how and where they met, why they started dating and why he’s essentially moved Louis in already. They _have_ moved fast and even though Harry isn’t embarrassed of Louis, he just… isn’t ready to tell her the full story yet. 

He knows she’ll understand when the time is right though. When Harry’s completely certain that Louis _is_ the person he’s going to spend the rest of his life with (he’s, like, 90% sure at this point) he’ll tell her everything. 

To his knowledge, his sister has no absolutely fucking idea (unless she’d watched him on that talk show a couple of weeks ago, but the lack of a phone call from her leads Harry to think she hasn’t). She also doesn’t go searching up Harry on social media or Google, and anyway, she’s living a busy enough life trying to raise a baby and work full-time. 

So Louis stays a secret from his family for now, but it’s pretty clear shortly after his chat with his mum that they’ll have to take a slightly different approach when it comes to Louis’s family. 

Louis pads into the kitchen one night as Harry’s prepping a chicken to go in the oven, grinning a little too widely to be real. “Hello, darling.”

“Hi, baby,” Harry says, pecking him on the head. “You okay?”

“Um.” Louis laughs hollowly. “Kind of? Well. Yes. Can we talk a second?”

Harry nods and moves to put the chicken in the oven, then goes to the sink so he can pull Louis in for a hug without getting oil or garlic on him. “Sure, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

Louis looks nervous. “I, um, think I’ve been in a little bit of a Harry bubble lately,” he laughs hollowly. “And while I’ve loved every minute of it, I did, um, forget that it’s my baby sisters’ 16th birthday?”

Harry’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit. When was it?”

“It’s this Saturday,” Louis says sheepishly. “And I’m an awful big brother because I forgot they were having a massive party with all our friends and family and stuff up north. I’d even had a hotel room booked.”

Harry nods carefully. “Okay, do you want driving up there?”

Louis looks anywhere but at Harry. “I want you to come with me.”

_Come with me._

“You… yeah?” Harry beams at him, feeling a little bit tingly all over. Louis wants him to meet his _family._ “You want me at your sisters’ 16th birthday party? That’s some serious relationship shit, that is.”

“I know.” Louis bites his lip. “So you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“Baby, I’m _so_ serious about this relationship.” Harry reaches forward and takes Louis’s hand in his. “It’s sooner than I thought it might be, granted, but I suppose I can’t keep you to myself forever. I can’t believe you want me to meet your family.”

“Well, it had to happen eventually,” Louis tells him dryly. “And I’m annoyed that I left it so short notice, if I’m honest. I haven’t told anyone about you aside from my two best friends.”

“Tell me about your family,” Harry murmurs, leaning back against the sofa cushions and tugging Louis closer to him. He tucks his arm over Louis’s middle and kisses him behind the ear, grinning as Louis leans into him, and he twists his head around to press a kiss to Harry’s jaw. “Talk me through the Tomlinson family tree.”

Louis snorts. “You got a couple of hours and a pen and paper?”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “How complicated can it be?”

More complicated than Harry was ready for, if he’s honest, as Louis launches into a detailed explanation of his five siblings, both his stepfathers, and then the tragic story of losing his mum and then his sister within a couple of years of each other. He talks about how his eldest sister is still his best friend in the world and he talks to her all day every day over text, and she’s the only one in the family who knows about them being an item because he couldn’t keep a secret from her. 

“She can’t wait to meet you,” he hums. “I know that’s a really typical thing to say at a time like this, but it’s true. She’s just so excited I’ve found someone that makes me happy and, like, I wanted to quit my job for, you know?”

Harry presses a long kiss into Louis’s hair. “I’m glad,” he murmurs, “And I absolutely can’t wait to meet her either.” 

Louis takes Harry’s hand and twists one of his rings round his finger. “And of course, there’s Liam and Zayn for you to meet. That’ll be fun.”

“Oh, yeah, your best friends?” Harry’s heard them mentioned a couple of times but he hasn’t had the chance to meet them yet. “Will they be at the party?”

“Of course,” Louis nods. “They’re more family than just friends. Liam’s the one who texted me to ask what hotel I was staying at, which is what reminded me it was this weekend.”

“Is the hotel room big enough for the two of us?” Harry asks. Louis nods. “Then consider me there, sweetheart.” He pauses. “Maybe, like, give a couple of people a head’s up that you’re bringing me?”

Louis snorts. “Absolutely not,” he chuckles. “I can’t wait to see the look on Daisy and Phoebe’s faces when I show up with you. It’ll be worth its weight in gold.”

Harry grins nervously and tries to quash down the butterflies in his tummy just at the thought. He’s going to meet Louis’s family and _soon,_ sooner than he’d ideally given himself time to prepare for mentally _._

This really is some serious relationship business right there and just the thought of it is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. 

The party is being held in a pub just outside of Louis’s hometown of Doncaster and from the sounds of it, pretty much Louis’s entire extended family and a lot of his hometown friends will be going. Harry finds himself choosing a more sensible, more refined outfit than what he’d usually, opting for a simple black suit and brogues rather than anything garish that will attract too much attention. According to Louis, it makes me look “entirely fuckable” so he takes that as he’s done a good job. 

And unsurprisingly, they’re running late by the time they arrive because Louis is chaotic and clearly a little bit nervous and overexcited, so he takes bloody ages to get ready. They were planning on walking to the venue but they’re so behind schedule Harry ends up ordering them an Uber and practically shoving Louis inside. 

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles sheepishly, grinning—well, it’s more of a grimace—at Harry. “I’m nervous, can you tell?”

Harry takes his hand and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips over his knuckles. “Me too. Why are you nervous?”

“Like, should I have pre-warned them that I’m dating Harry Styles? Maybe.” Louis bites his lip. “I should probably apologise in advance as well about all of Daisy and Phoebe’s little friends. They’re going to cry, probably.”

Harry chuckles nervously. He’d been expecting that, if he’s honest, but Louis hasn’t really made mention of it until now. “It’s fine,” he tells Louis, even though he definitely doesn’t _feel_ fine. “Do they even know you have a boyfriend?”

“They know I have a boyfriend called Harry, yeah,” Louis says. “It’s the first time I’ve ever had a plus one for a family party, you see. I think everyone’s just gonna be delighted.”

“Do I, like…” Harry licks his lips, thinking on how to word this. “Call me out if I’m speaking out of line, but I presume people don’t think you’ve been single because of your job?” Louis’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Like, they think you’re single by choice and not because they know what you used to do for work.”

“Oh, yeah,” Louis nods. “If they ask I just tell them I’m working towards another degree. After a while they all start to blur into one anyway. When I do get on a PhD it’ll just seem like a natural stepping stone.”

“Cool,” Harry says. “So then… how did we meet?”

Louis balks. “ _Fuck._ I hadn’t thought of that. Fuck! I really left everything to the last minute with this one, didn’t I?”

“It’s definitely partly my fault,” Harry chuckles. “Why don’t we say… let’s just say you knew Niall and he introduced us. That’s kind of stretching the truth, but keeps it pretty vague.”

“My alpha’s a _genius_ ,” Louis says happily, sighing with relief. “Okay, okay. I can do this.” Harry clears his throat. “Sorry. We can do this.”

Harry kisses his knuckles again and sends a silent prayer to whoever’s listening that they _can_ indeed do this. 

The second they're inside the pub, Louis drags him straight over to the pair standing in the far corner, an alpha and an omega. Harry follows obediently a couple of steps behind him, smiling politely as Louis ploughs into the arms of the omega, smacking a kiss onto each of his cheeks before he practically knocks the alpha over with the force of his hug. 

Harry hates how he immediately wants to growl but he forces it down. This is a party for two of Louis’s sisters, for crying out loud. Louis wouldn’t have brought him here if he was going to show him up with another alpha…

Would he?

He’s distracted and probably glaring when the omega beside him taps him lightly on the shoulder. 

“You don’t have to stare at them like that, you know. They’ve been friends since they were in nappies—if anything untoward was going to happen, it would have done so years ago.”

Harry’s eyes go wide at that. The man is grinning impishly, like he’s seen this all before and he’s amused, almost, by Harry’s behaviour. He’s shorter than Harry and absolutely fucking gorgeous, lithe and well dressed, with big round eyes rimmed with kohl and bleached blonde hair. He’s covered in tattoos from the top of his neck down to the palms of his hands and there’s several piercings in his ears, and a ring in each nostril.

There’s also a bond mark on his exposed chest, a black heart tattooed around it so it stands out against his skin. Harry balks. 

“Ah,” is all his stupid brain can offer out. 

The omega grins even wider. “I’m Zayn, by the way. And that’s my mate, Liam, with your boyfriend in his arms.”

 _Zayn and Liam._ Of fucking course. 

“Shit, of course he’s mentioned you,” Harry mumbles, finally locating his voice. “His best friends since childhood, right?”

“Right,” Zayn nods. “Though Liam since nursery school and me since secondary school. And if we’re being honest, Liam is his absolute best friend. Those two are, like, connected on a deeper level.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “It’s nothing to get jealous of, I promise.”

“I’m not jealous,” Harry says, a little too quickly to be totally sincere. 

He isn’t jealous now he _knows_ it’s Liam, not _really._

Zayn raises his perfectly groomed eyebrows and Harry coughs. 

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” Zayn says, extending his hand. “Louis is obsessed with you, by the way. Thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread and talks about you like you invented love. It’s disgusting and lovely in equal measure.”

Harry laughs awkwardly. He doesn’t really know what to say. “Um, thank you?”

Zayn grins at him. “Don’t tell him I said that,” he chuckles. “He’ll probably kill me. But then again, we’ve had to listen to him go on and on about you like a lovesick puppy for the past few weeks, so I’m not that sorry about it.”

Harry grins and mimes zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. “He tells you guys about me, huh?”

Zayn chuckles. “All the time,” he replies coyly, then cuts himself off as Louis and Liam step towards them both. Louis looks flushed but the happiest Harry’s seen him in ages. 

“Baby? This is Liam,” Louis says, sliding his hand into Harry’s. “My best childhood friend.”

“Hi,” Harry says gruffly, shaking his hand. “Good to finally meet you.”

“And you, mate,” Liam says, his smile so wide his eyes crinkle at the corners. Once he drops Harry’s hand, he keeps it raised and Zayn slides under it, resting his hand on Liam’s stomach. “And I see you’ve met Zayn, my mate.”

“Yes,” Harry nods, then grins as Louis wiggles his arm until he tucks him underneath it so they mirror Zayn and Liam. “Oh, hello.”

“I always knew you’d be a clingy boyfriend,” Zayn says gleefully. “Hello Louis, by the way. Do I not get a hello?”

Louis tuts and rolls his eyes. “Needy,” he says, but he slides out from under Harry’s arm and pulls Zayn into another hug obediently. “Missed you, cunt bag.”

“Missed you too, you slag.” Zayn pulls back and slaps Louis on both cheeks, then tucks himself back into Liam’s hold. “I can’t believe you have a boyfriend. I’m so fucking happy. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Louis sticks out his tongue. “Fuck you. Not all of us could meet the love of our life at sixteen.” He pokes Harry in the stomach. “Have I told you that these two bonded at the age of eighteen?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, but that’s awesome. Did you meet at school?”

Harry stands and listens politely as Louis, Liam and Zayn fill them in on their life story—meeting in sixth form because Zayn and Louis came together as two of the only male omegas in the school, and then Zayn and Liam got together pretty much immediately—but they’re soon interrupted by one of Louis’s cousins, letting them know that they were about to sit down for dinner. 

They end up on a table full of Louis’s family, where Harry has his first proper conversation with Lottie and Mark, Louis’s stepdad, and of course, both the birthday girls. They stammer through their introductions and look torn between murdering their brother and being so in awe they can barely talk. It’s even funnier when Louis shows Harry a text that Phoebe just sent him under the table that reads: _You absolute piece of shit why didn’t you warn us!!!!!!!!,_ which makes them both snicker and Phoebe go even redder, bless her. 

It’s quite unnerving to meet your in-laws while at the same time being hyper aware that everyone in the room is staring at you. He hears whispers from pretty much everyone as they walk past the table, and each time they do Louis offers him a squeeze to the knee. 

“I am sorry,” he murmurs. “Perhaps I should have told people. I definitely should have told these two.” He gestures to his sisters. 

“I knew,” Lottie pipes up proudly. “And I think it’s funny. Well, for Louis, maybe. Harry, you look a little green.”

“Shut up, Lottie,” Louis hisses. “Leave the poor man alone, I feel guilty enough and it’s not _funny.”_

“It’s because he’s never brought a boyfriend home before,” Lottie stage-whispers. “And everyone has always wondered why when he’s such a catch.” She pinches Louis on the cheek. “Aren’t you, big brother?”

“I’m flattered to be the first,” Harry croaks. “And hopefully the last.” Louis tuts and slaps him lightly on the shoulder. “Well, I’m serious. People are going to have to get used to me.”

“I’m sure they will,” Louis says, sliding an arm through Harry’s. “It’s just, well, you know what families are like.”

“Especially one the size of ours,” Lottie chimes in. “And also at an event full of teenage girls. Not gonna lie, I think they might be some of the most intimidating creatures of all.” She takes a big swig of her wine. “Speaking of, do you guys have, like, a plan on how to not let photos of you spread the internet?”

“Kind of?” Harry and Louis say in sync, which makes them all laugh. 

“My manager has purposely already leaked some photos of me being somewhere else tonight,” Harry explains. “Then if any photos do get posted on social channels today then we can blur out anyone’s faces that aren’t me to keep it nice and vague.”

“That’s… insanity, but alright.” Lottie whistles and drains her wine glass. “God, the things you have to go through to appear normal. Who can be arsed?”

“Me,” Louis says indignantly, gripping Harry’s thigh possessively. “It’s worth it because it means Harry can be here, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.” 

“Fucking idiot,” Lottie mutters, but she meets Harry’s eye across the table and offers him a secret smile. It doesn’t take a genius to work out she's teasing. She’s clearly so happy that her brother is happy, and that’s all that matters. 

Seeing Louis with his family is just so lovely, and Harry doesn’t stop smiling all the way through dessert. 

It’s a little overwhelming when dinner wraps up and they do the traditional family party trick of going from group to group. It’s clear that everyone here loves Louis but they’re all a little awkward when they’re introduced to Harry. They all seem either starstruck or keen to show off in some way or another, which is quite an odd experience, but Harry supposes he should have expected it. It’s probably quite a surreal experience, coming to a 16th birthday party and finding out that your cousin or nephew is dating someone famous.

And Louis is either oblivious to it or choosing to ignore it (he suspects the latter), so Harry chooses not to mention it, at least for now. 

They finally get a brief moment for themselves once the tables have cleared away to turn the whole space into a dance floor, where Louis drags him into a corner and pulls him down for a snog. He’s a little bit tipsy, if the way he’s swaying and giggling is anything to go off of, and he keeps his arms around Harry’s neck and rocks them gently from side to side in time to the music. 

“I love having you here,” he tells Harry with a dopey grin, which makes Harry grin even wider. “I know my family can be a lot, and there are a _lot_ of them, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

Harry kisses him again. “I’m glad you brought me here. Even if I was worried at one point your Aunt Linda was going to try and slide her hand under my shirt.”

Louis cackles. “She probably would have done, to be fair. I’d avoid her for the rest of the night if you don’t still don’t want to risk it because she’s been on the gin since she arrived.”

Just to prove a point, Harry slides a hand under the back of Louis’s shirt and ducks down to give him another quick kiss. “I think I’m hogging you, babe. There’s a group of people eager for you to join them over there.” 

“Loo-wee!” calls Lottie from across the room, waving him over, tottering in her high heels. “Come dance. Harry, come too!”

“Come dance?” Louis tilts his head towards where the twins have scurried to join Lottie, beckoning them onto the dance floor, but Harry shakes his head. 

“Let me finish my drink first? I’ll join you in a minute.”

“Sure.” Louis smacks a quick kiss onto his cheek and scuttles off, leaving Harry on his own at the back of the room, which he’s kind of glad about. Today has been a lot all at once and while he’s happy he was able to meet people like Lottie and Mark, it’s been quite intense meeting his entire extended family at once. 

He can’t help but keep an eye on Louis from over here though, watching with a secret smile as Louis tries to teach his sisters how to slut drop. Even if he’s spent the day feeling a touch awkward, Louis is clearly in his element and having the time of his life, so as far as he’s concerned it’s all been worth it. 

Then he hears someone clear their throat behind him and he turns. 

“Hey,” Liam says, smiling warmly at Harry and offering an awkward wave. Harry tries to smile politely but it probably looks more like a grimace, if the way Liam’s face falls is anything to go on. To his credit, he doesn’t back away. “I wanted to come over and introduce myself properly, like, alpha to alpha.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, um, Liam, isn’t it? I was talking to your mate earlier.”

_Your mate that isn’t my Louis._

Liam smiles softly. “Yeah, Zayn.” He looks at Harry carefully. “Zayn is my bond mate, you know. We’re bonded.” Harry nods again. “Which means you don’t have anything to worry about, bro. I have no romantic feelings or interest in Louis whatsoever.”

“I know,” Harry grunts, but it sounds fake to his own ears. “I’m just, like…” He shrugs. “It’s still kinda new between Louis and I so I’m a bit…”

“Territorial?” Liam supplies. “I get it, you know. From one alpha to another, like, I really get it.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. His skin feels itchy having this conversation. “I’m a bit protective of what’s mine, which is dumb when it comes to another person, I know, but like…”

“Listen,” Liam cuts in gently. “I’m well aware that if I saw Zayn charge into the arms of an alpha stranger, I’d feel a bit off too. But you have to understand…” He clears his throat. “Louis and I have been best friends since before we could talk, basically. It’s always been me and him, all throughout school and college and all of it. We’d do anything for each other.”

If this is supposed to be making Harry feel better, it isn’t really working. “But it’s platonic,” he says dryly. 

Liam pulls a face. “Harry, bro. I know it’s not hugely conventional for alphas and omegas to be best friends like we are, but I’ve never been interested in Louis, and he’s never been interested in me.” He crosses his heart. “Swear on my bond.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t trust him or you, I promise. And I know I’m fairly new into Louis’s life too, so I don’t have the same knowledge of his experiences as you, but from what I do know I just can’t help but feel a bit… alpha-y.”

“You’re protective of him,” Liam notes. Harry nods in agreement. “So am I.” He takes a long pull of his beer. “Something you have to understand, Harry, is that I’ve been here for a long time and I’d go as far as to say that I probably know Louis better than anyone.” He shrugs. “And I can tell you that Louis has never put himself first, never ever.”

Harry frowns. “He never puts himself first,” he agrees. “Getting him to agree to something that does is hard bloody work. I think I’m learning that the hard way.”

“Tell me about it,” Liam nods. “And he’s always been like this. And the thing is…” He takes a deep breath. “I hate what he does for work. I always have and I always will. I don’t try and hide it from him either.” He holds up a hand. “I don’t judge people that do it or use the services or whatever, that’s their prerogative but…” Another swig. “I hate it. It’s never been what Louis was destined to do. His potential is so incredible.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. He couldn’t agree more. “I guess he told you he’s been applying for PhD courses?”

Liam nods again. “Yeah. He came right over to me because he said he wanted to see my face when he told me he was finally quitting his job for good. Said it was too good of an opportunity for him to miss by sending me a bloody Whatsapp. And I’m so glad he did. I’ve not felt so relieved in ages.”

Harry grins despite himself. That’s such a Louis move and he has to admire it, because he also knows that not telling him will have driven him up the wall. “I didn’t realise he had someone like you, Liam,” he says honestly. “I didn’t realise, like, quite how deeply you two care about it each other.” 

“He’s my best friend,” Liam answers with a simple shrug. “Always has been and always will be.” He drains his glass. “I worry about him all the time, if I’m honest.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like,” Harry says with a hoarse laugh. He clears his throat. “I am very protective of him, I know, and I know it’s early days between us and whatever but I think that’s kind of natural when you’re an alpha, yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Liam agrees. “And when you know, you know.” 

“But… it’s like more than that with him,” Harry says, voice edging on desperate. He’s not even sure the proper words exist when it comes to explaining how he feels about Louis, but he supposes if anyone is going to understand, it’ll be his best friend. “I’m not… I’m not the person they make me out to be in the tabloids. I’ve always wanted to find my person and now I have and it’s like, sometimes I don’t know what to do with that information. I’ve also never been in a relationship like this before so I worry I get a bit intense but it’s because…” He cuts himself off sharply, because his rambling mouth was about to say something _very_ intense. 

“But you love him,” Liam chimes in matter-of-factly, smiling brilliantly. Harry doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face almost definitely gives him away. 

_He’s in love with Louis._

“I… haven't said that to him yet,” is what he offers back. 

Liam mimes zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. “I won’t say anything, I promise. It’s just…” His smile widens. “I just always worried that Louis would never have this. And now he has you and you’re both clearly besotted with one another and I couldn’t be happier for both of you.”

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs, and he means it. He never wants to be the alpha who hates the idea of his mate being friends with other alphas, and he’s glad he got the chance to talk with Liam, just the two of them. He likes Liam and he can tell that he is fiercely protective of Louis in a different way, a unique way to everyone else, it seems. 

He glances over to Louis on the other side of the pavilion, where he’s currently twirling one of his sisters around to _Oops... I Did It Again_ by Britney Spears. It makes his heart skip a beat and he actually misses him, even though he’s only a room away. 

“Harry, can I just say something else?” Liam says, glancing over to where Zayn and Louis begin doing the Conga with the twins. “It’s important, I think, for you to know this but if Louis knew I was telling you this he’d probably kick me straight in the balls.”

Harry snorts. “Now I’m intrigued.”

Liam grins. “Nobody tells Louis what to do. I’m sure you know that.” Harry nods tentatively. “But the thing is, _you_ can tell Louis what to do and he just goes. It’s… well, it’s something I never thought I’d see from him, to be honest.”

Harry blinks at him. He isn’t really sure what Liam is trying to tell him. “Huh?”

“He quit his job for you,” Liam says simply. “He probably threw up a bit of a fight but he did it, is that right?”

He has to hold back a laugh, because if Liam knew the fight they’d had he probably wouldn’t be talking about it so nonchalantly. “We did have a massive fight, actually,” he mumbles. “I thought he was going to leave me.”

“But he came back,” Liam smiles. “Our lovely, unbearably loyal Louis came back and he did what you asked.” He touches Harry’s forearm lightly. “Harry, his mum couldn’t get him to quit that job even though she begged and pleaded. They argued about it relentlessly up until she was hospitalised for the last time. And man, I cannot even tell you the amount of rows we’ve had about it, rows where Zayn has had to physically get between us once or twice because we’re both so angry at the other.”

“So…” Harry still isn’t quite sure what Liam is trying to say. He opts for a question that he’s wanted to ask Louis for the longest time, but doesn’t want to start an argument by asking. “So you don’t think it makes me a controlling alpha to ask him to quit his job before we started dating?”

“I can see both sides of the argument,” Liam says, nice and diplomatic. “But for me, as an alpha as well as his best friend, I am absolutely, categorically on your side.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Zayn is a model and I have to deal with horny alphas leering over him all the time,” Liam says. “It drives me fucking bonkers even though I’m not worried, not really. He’s mine and I’m his. But on a pure alpha bond mate level, I hate it.” He takes a deep breath. “If he was sleeping with anyone but me, I’d lose my shit. Simple as that. It’s not… I just couldn’t do it so I get it.” 

“Yeah,” Harry nods. God, it feels good to be reaffirmed in his thinking, and especially by Louis’s best friend. Sometimes he worries he’s being too much of a macho alpha knothead for his own good. “Hey, thanks, Liam. For like, coming over and talking to me. I know I’ve not exactly given you the warmest welcome and I’m sorry.”

“You’re in love with my best friend,” Liam says with a shrug, but his smile is wide and genuine. “I think you’re within your rights to be wary of other alphas, especially before you’ve had the chance to meet them properly yourself. Which is why I came over to introduce myself to you properly.”

“I appreciate it.” Harry smiles before he drains the last of the drink in his glass. “It’s a bit mad, isn’t it, how old fashioned and possessive being alpha can make you at times.”

Liam nods sagely. “Yeah, but it’s biology and all that. I think as long as you don’t let it impact the implicit trust you and your partner have, it’s fine to be a bit possessive now and again.” He grins around the rim of his drink. “Like I am punching _well_ above my weight with my Zayn, I know this. But we’d do anything for each other and I trust him with my life.” He shrugs again. “When you know, you know, as I’m sure _you_ know.”

“Oh, I know,” Harry grins, just as Louis reappears in his eyeline. He swans over to the pair of them with two flutes of champagne in his hand, which Harry takes gratefully. “Hello, my darling.”

“Hi, stud,” Louis greets back. His cheeks are pink, probably from a mix of the dancing and all the alcohol, and his hair is a sweaty mess. He leans into Harry’s side easily. “Fighting off the competition, are you?”

“And where’s my drink?” Liam asks. hands on hips. “Or do we only give them to people we fancy now?”

“Start sucking my dick and then I’ll get you a drink,” Louis says cheekily, which makes both alphas groan. “Oh, what’s going on here?”

“Don’t even go there,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. “Cheeky fucker. Where’s Zayn?”

“Gone to the loo,” Louis tells him. “He said to tell you he’d _love_ a drink when he’s back.”

“I’m sure he would,” Liam mutters. “Right, guess I’m off to the bar then. See you lads in a second. It was great to finally meet you, Harry, and have a proper chat.”

Liam sidles off and Harry’s about to say something, but Louis tugs him down for a sloppy kiss instead. 

“Come dance.”

“I…” 

Maybe Harry’s more tipsy than he realised he was because he very nearly blurted his new found information out in the middle of a dance floor with Louis’s entire extended family with _Agadoo_ playing in the background. He slaps a hand over his mouth just in time, which makes Louis frown and gingerly take a step back. 

“Shit, you gonna be sick?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I… I think it was just a burp.”

He has such a way with words. 

Louis shakes his head fondly and then steps back into Harry’s space. “So you wanna dance?”

Harry nods awkwardly. “Yeah, baby. Let’s go dance.”

The rest of the evening passes fairly quickly as more drinks are consumed and the DJ plays every single cheesy pop song under the sun. Harry wonders if Louis has had a word with his sisters or whoever picked the playlist because none of his music is on there, and it’s not uncommon for the first single he recorded to be found on a cheesy pop playlist, but he’s kind of glad it isn’t. He still feels a little awkward as he knows people are watching him, but at least Louis’s sisters and friends have welcomed him in with open arms. 

Overall, it’s a great night and everyone seems to have enjoyed themselves, so Harry can’t really complain. 

At Niall’s request, Harry had upgraded their hotel room to one at a slightly different hotel with better security, and they tumble into their room in the early hours of the morning, exhausted and sweaty and all danced out. They share a quick shower and clamber into the giant bed together, where Louis is quick to tuck himself under Harry’s chin and tangle their legs together. 

“Today meant everything to me,” he mumbles sleepily into Harry’s bare chest and pressing a kiss over the bird tattooed there. “Thank you for coming.”

“Anything for you,” Harry whispers, taking a deep breath of the scent that’s radiating off the omega in his arms, a scent that smells fresh and clean, like Louis is happy and content. 

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

Harry thinks he accidentally murmurs the words aloud into his pillow as he’s about to fall asleep, but he’s pretty sure Louis is out cold already so doesn’t hear him. 

He’ll tell him tomorrow, when he’s ready.


	2. II

**_“There is no heart for me like yours”_ **

**_-_ ** **Maya Angelou**

Now that Louis is applying for PhDs, it feels like that’s all he has time to do. 

Harry hadn’t realised that Louis had not one, but two Master’s degrees—one in Social Work and one in Philosophy that he’d worked towards part time while he was working on the side. As a result, he’s hideously over-qualified for most jobs, ten times smarter than Harry, and also drowning in student debt. 

(Harry definitely plans to get that debt paid off at some point, but now doesn’t feel like the time to bring that up.)

Louis wants to do his PhD in the social work field and plans to write his thesis on the connection between working class families in the north of England and why so many of them end up in sex work or high-paying, high risk jobs in general that they find difficult to leave. It’s a fascinating topic and one obviously very close to Louis’s heart, and Harry has no doubt that any university would be lucky to take him on. 

The problem is, not many universities seem to want to take him on. 

He’s a little late in applying for PhDs for this academic year but he’s determined, working night and day to fill in applications, write proposals, apply for funding, practice for interviews and answer any emails. It’s like a full time job in itself.

Harry helps where he can, making him copious cups of tea and going over his application forms for little spelling errors and proofreading emails to make sure they don’t sound too snarky. 

But what he can’t seem to help with is the rejections. 

Applying for PhDs takes time, more time than Harry thought it would, sometimes weeks for each application. Each application has to be tailored to the university and department he’s applying to, so he can’t just reuse and recycle his previous applications, which means each one can take him days to complete and then makes for an even harder pill to swallow with each rejection he gets. 

He’s been doing this for months at this point and he hasn’t had one acceptance yet. 

Harry’s in his studio one day at the back of their apartment when Louis comes to find him. It’s earlier than either of them normally finish for the day—Harry’s still working on perfecting the bridge of a song for his album—but when Louis comes into him, face pinched tight and his fists tangled in his hoodie sleeves, Harry drops his notebook and pen and welcomes him into his arms willingly. 

“You alright, baby?”

Louis shakes his head against Harry’s shoulder. “No,” he grumbles, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck so Harry can pull him closer. “Another rejection.”

Harry takes a deep breath and then sighs, pulling the omega even closer so he can kiss the crown of his head. “Fuck’s sake,” he mutters, then kisses him again. “That’s garbage, darling, I’m so sorry. Where for this time?”

“Bristol.” Louis shifts in his arms a little so they’re more comfortable, which isn’t easy considering they’re perched together on a desk chair. “I didn’t want to go there anyway but it still stings a bit.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “I get you. It will happen though, Lou. I have no doubt.”

Louis lets out a very long sigh at that, head falling back against Harry’s shoulder. “Will it?” he laughs bitterly. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“What number rejection are you on?” Harry asks, then winces. 

_Why the fuck did you ask that, idiot._

“This is number six.” Louis doesn’t call him out on the stupid question, just pulls Harry’s arms tighter around him. “God, like… it’s not like I don’t think doing this is worth it because it will be in the end, but it’s fucking hard work.”

“Yeah, I know, baby.” Harry brushes Louis’s soft fringe from his eyes. “It’s so worth it and when you’re a doctor you won’t even be thinking about this time in your life.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” Louis brushes his lips softly against Harry’s. “I quite like where I’m at right now for the most part.” Then he pouts. “Well, I don’t much like this feeling of relying on someone else to pay my bills and being jobless and feeling like I’m getting nowhere in life, but aside from that it’s gravy.”

Harry snorts. “I know, sweetheart, I know. I hate that you feel like that.”

“S’ok,” Louis murmurs, tucking his face into Harry’s neck. “I want this and I want you, and it’s a small price to pay. Like, deep down I know I probably wouldn’t have done this for a while if it wasn’t for you being all alpha and needy anyway.”

“I am _not needy,”_ Harry grunts, nipping at Louis’s jaw. “How can I be the needy one when you’re curled up in my lap like this?”

“I’m an omega,” Louis simpers. “I have to have you touching me or I’ll literally die.”

“Gotcha,” Harry says. “Not needy and not even a little bit dramatic either.” 

“Exactly,” Louis affirms, then gives him a quick, firm kiss on the mouth. “Urgh, okay, I don’t want to do any more work today. I’m having an evening off.” He glances at Harry’s desk. “You nearly done or have you still got a bit to do?”

Harry shrugs. “There's nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Not if the choice is between that and you, my darling.”

Louis giggles and kisses him again, and they spend a good few minutes making out before they make their way into the kitchen and start cooking. 

For whatever reason, that evening triggers a shift in how they spend their time together both before and after work. Maybe it’s because they’ve both been so used to being single and also living alone that they’re still learning to incorporate each other into their lives, or maybe it’s because they’re both headstrong individuals with clear goals mapped out, Harry isn’t quite sure. 

But he is sure that now he’s started this thing with Louis, he doesn’t want it to stop, and sacrificing an hour or two of work in the evenings in a bid to break out of his workaholic tendencies is a good thing, and he gets the feeling that left to his own devices, Louis would be the same. 

He’s lived alone for so long that he’s gotten used to living on his own schedule. Some days he works from sunrise and sundown and barely eats a piece of toast, whereas others he thrives on doing multiple things at once, like getting in a workout and getting things done around the house as well as working on some of his projects. 

It’s difficult to break these habits that he’s had since he started living alone and working from the office in his flat, but then again he’s never had a reason to. 

Louis is a lot more clingy in the evenings, often proclaiming that if Harry doesn’t come and cuddle him _right fucking now_ he’ll be forced to leave him, which makes Harry feel incredibly wanted but also twice and clingy back. These habits are hard to break, but somehow his draw and his need to be in Louis’s presence at all times makes it easier.

Having a soulmate is _weird,_ because for the first time in his life Harry has someone else to put first and it doesn’t even feel like anything’s changed. One day, his number one priority was himself and now it’s Louis, and that shift feels normal, natural and completely organic. 

He just can’t help but wonder if when Louis becomes a full-time PhD student whether he’ll become the workaholic Harry’s working to no longer be. 

“Would you describe yourself as a workaholic?” he asks one evening as they work together to prepare their dinner. Louis is frying some veggies in a pan while Harry is chopping up some chicken breast, ready to serve up some fajitas. 

Louis cocks a brow. “I’m not sure I was able to be a workaholic in my previous job, babe. The work was either there or it wasn’t, you know?”

“Yeah, but now,” Harry wonders as he transfers the chicken to Louis’s pan with practiced ease. “You’ve been working insane hours lately, like, from breakfast until it’s dark outside. So is this what it’s going to be like dating you when you’re doing your actual PhD?”

“No,” Louis snorts. He takes a sip from his glass of wine. “I have three years to complete that. I only had three weeks to get all my applications in before the deadlines for the academic year closed, didn’t I?”

Harry blinks at him. “So what you’re doing now is…”

“Waiting,” Louis says. “Preparing. It’s been a while since I’ve done a degree so I’ve been, like, reacquainting myself with some of my favourite authors and research papers and the like.”

Harry strolls over and wraps an arm around his shoulders, kissing the top of his head. “Am I a bad boyfriend for not knowing that?” he asks slowly.

Louis shrugs against him. “No,” he murmurs, then gently pushes Harry off so he can go back to stirring the chicken in with the veggies. “You’ve got your own shit going on, haven't you? Your job isn’t exactly traditional either.” Then he turns the heat on the hob right down and spins around so he can pull Harry in for a proper hug. “I have no idea what you do in that big office on a day to day basis, stud. No idea whatsoever.”

“I…” Harry doesn’t know what to say, he just blinks at the omega in his arms. “I don’t really share with others, when I’m writing new music and such.”

“Okay,” Louis says simply. “You don’t have to share any of it with me, but it’s cool to know that Harry Styles is working on a new album.”

“Am I… are we…?” Frustrated, Harry just pulls Louis in even closer, unsure of what he wants to say or how to even say it. He settles on something painfully truthful and sappy. “I want to know everything about you.”

Louis blinks at him. “Harry, darling, are you alright?”

Harry is, in fact, not alright. He’s fretting. “Like… I feel like I’m a terrible boyfriend,” he blurts. _Fuck._ “No, I don’t… well, yes I do…”

“Harry,” Louis says again, slowly. His eyes are like saucers, his mouth hanging open. “Are you serio… why the fuck do you think that?”

“Because I don’t know how to be in a relationship,” Harry says mournfully. “We don’t even know what we’re doing in the day and yet we’re doing it under the same roof.”

“You think you’re a bad boyfriend because… you don’t know the ins and outs of the PhD application process,” Louis says flatly. “Something I, a PhD applicant, don’t even think I understand all that well.”

Harry feels like a fucking idiot. “I don’t know. Yes. No.”

“Okay, well, that’s cleared that up.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Babe, I think it’s normal to not know what’s going on with your partner’s work. I don’t have a clue what you do all day but I know what you do and that’s good enough for me.” He toys with the hairs at the back of Harry’s neck, his warm hand soft and comforting. “Why else do you think you’re a bad boyfriend?”

“I just,” Harry sighs and rests his forehead against Louis’s. “I don’t know. Forget I said that.”

“I don’t think I can forget that, sweetheart,” Louis says softly. “Because if you’re a bad boyfriend, what does that make me?”

Harry’s eyes practically bug out of his skull. “What are you talking about? You’re the best boyfriend!”

“No, I’m a former rentboy dating someone that half the world wants to date but for some crazy reason he wants me instead, and I’ve given up my only source of income to apply for PhDs in something that means the world to me but nobody else seems interested in, and if I don’t get accepted for one I’m just a mediocre sponge of an omega,” Louis says. His voice cracks on the last word. “And somehow my alpha is okay with that and I can’t understand it.”

“Because I…” Harry cuts himself off, because now is _not the time for that._ “You think that? About yourself?”

Louis shrugs. “Well, if we’re opening up about things here, yeah.”

Harry’s heart just breaks. “I had no idea,” he confesses, shaking his head and clutching Louis just that little bit tighter. “And that’s _bullshit,_ Louis, bullshit. None of that is true.”

“A lot of it is true,” Louis scowls. “I _am_ a former rentboy with an alpha that half the world wants.”

“But I don’t want half the world,” Harry snaps. “Fuck, god, I feel like the worst boyfriend ever for not realising you felt like this.”

Louis sighs and turns back around with a groan, moving the fajita mix around the pan once more. It smells a bit like it’s starting to burn, but that’s a problem for later. “Just because we’ve got this, like, weird connection doesn’t mean I’m expecting you to know how I think and feel all the time,” Louis tells him. “And I’m pretty good at hiding my emotions, if I do say so myself.”

“I want to know,” Harry says, hooking his chin over Louis’s shoulder as he stirs their food. “I want to know everything about you, like I said. And that’s the good and the bad.”

With his free hand, Louis pats Harry’s cheek, turning to kiss the corner of his mouth. “So do I,” he murmurs softly, like that’s a secret. “I just haven’t, like, had anyone to talk to about this properly before. And it doesn’t seem fair to talk to you about things like how miserable sex work made me when I know I keep banging on about how much I miss working. But you’re always here and ready to listen and be so supportive, even when I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“I want to know,” Harry says again. There’s a tightness in his stomach that could be nerves, upset or both. He absolutely didn’t mean for this conversation to go this way. “I want to know so if there’s anything that I can do to help, I can do it.”

“But you do help,” Louis stresses, turning once again and fisting his hands in the front of Harry’s T-shirt. “Don’t you get it, darling? That’s what I’m trying to say.”

“I help?” Harry says dumbly. 

Louis rolls his eyes so hard that Harry is kind of surprised he doesn’t knock himself over with the sheer force of it. “Harry, for the love of fucking god.”

“So you think you’re a bad boyfriend when I think you’re a great boyfriend, and you think I’m a good boyfriend even though I think I think I’m a bad boyfriend?”

Louis laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound. “Pretty much.” He raises himself up on his tiptoes and kisses Harry softly. “Though I’d go as far to say you’re a great boyfriend, yeah? Even though I’ve probably burnt our dinner because of you.”

“It’ll be fine,” Harry insists. He smacks another quick kiss onto Louis’s lips and then wrinkles his nose. It very much does smell like burning in here now. “Okay, maybe not.”

He reluctantly breaks apart from Louis to start warming the tortillas under the grill, but he gets so distracted kissing Louis again that he sets the fire alarm off. Their dinner is black by the time they come to it but it’s worth it to have Louis laughing so hard that he needs to hold on to Harry for support, though. 

They dutifully start out trying to make their fajitas but it’s an absolute disaster that takes like slightly spicy ash, which sends them both into another fit of giggles. 

“Remind us to not have serious conversations when we’re trying to cook,” Louis tells him later on as he pours them out a bowl of crunchy nut cornflakes each. Harry had offered to order them in some fajitas from a local restaurant instead, but Louis had tutted and told him sternly that having cereal for dinner when you fuck up your first meal attempt is the _only_ correct course of action, so that’s what they’re doing. “Not that I regret it, of course, but I was rather looking forward to those fajitas.”

“I’m glad you don’t regret it,” Harry says with a snort. He’s got a hand on the small of Louis’s back again, because they both get like this sometimes, where just the idea of being apart from one another is out of the question. Louis’s skin is warm and his cheeks are pink, leaning into Harry’s touch as he pours milk into their bowls. “I’m sorry if I’m, like…”

“Shut up,” Louis interrupts, turning to hand him his bowl. “No apologies and no being all weird about anything, please.” He rests his hand on Harry’s chest and tilts his head, looking up at him coyly. “I just… I just want you, if that’s alright.”

Sometimes Harry feels really small in this big world. He’s been to so many countries and seen so many incredible things and met so many incredible people. He’s been on stage with Stevie Nicks, he’s climbed Machu Picchu and had an album go to number 1 in 37 countries. He’s been able to buy his whole family the homes of their dreams, taken his mum to film premieres where he’s played the lead role and co-hosted the Met Gala with some of his best friends. 

None of that compares to the feeling of being told by Louis that he’s all he wants. 

_I’m so in love with you,_ he thinks. 

“Just us,” he echoes, his chest tight and voice shaky as he winds his arms around Louis’s shoulder, nosing into his shoulder. “I can do that.”

So that’s exactly what they do. They eat cereal on the sofa in their pants and cuddle in front of a movie and then proceed to ignore it while they chat and screech with laughter and make out instead. 

Afterwards, Harry takes him to bed. They spend an even longer time kissing and rolling around in the sheets before Louis sinks down onto Harry’s cock and bounces them both to messy orgasms. Harry bites at Louis’s shoulder as his knot pops and he buries his face in the crook of his neck, drinking in the scent of pure pleasure that’s coming off Louis in waves. 

He rolls Louis onto his back and keeps scenting him as they both ride out their highs, locked together. 

“Darling boy,” he murmurs, placing lazy, open mouthed kisses into Louis’s chest. “Darling, darling boy.”

Louis hums happily and cradles Harry’s head in his hands. “God, you’re good at that.”

Harry snorts. “Good at what?”

“Sex,” Louis grins, patting Harry on the cheek. “Having a nice dick. Good knot. Big fan of your work.”

“You flatter me,” Harry murmurs. “Big fan of yours too. All that bouncing. Loved every second.”

They don’t talk much after that, sharing a few short kisses as Harry’s knot eventually goes down and he can slide out. They share a quick shower together and then snuggle into bed together, naked and curled up together. 

He’s just about to doze off, merrily fucked out and happily in love, that he has a _brilliant_ idea. 

“Going back to our earlier conversation, do you want to come on a shoot with me tomorrow?” Harry mumbles into his shoulder. “I know it’s not, like, the most conventional or exciting work day for you to watch but we do get a free lunch.”

Louis cracks open one eye. “You want to bring me along to a photoshoot? An actual professional photoshoot where people see us together?”

“Yes,” Harry says firmly. “I want you with me, if you want to come. It’ll do you good to have time away from your computer, if nothing else.”

Louis worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a few seconds before answering. “But it’s... public?”

“Yes,” Harry says again. “And we don’t have to go in any capacity other than friends if you don’t want to. I just… I want you there. Please.”

Louis touches Harry’s face gently. “I’ll come,” he murmurs. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“I barely argued,” Harry argues. 

“Yes, but you have this face,” Louis says with a grin, turning his gentle caress into a sharp pinch. “A face I couldn’t say no to even if I wanted to.”

Harry grins despite himself. “Is my face so irresistible that I can remind you our alarm will go off at 6am so we can be on set for half 7?”

Louis groans and flops his head against the pillow dramatically, so Harry drapes his arm over him and cuddles him in, still grinning as he drifts off to sleep. 

True to his word, Louis gets up and dressed with him in the morning, though he bitches and moans the entire time. 

“It’s too fucking early,” he complains for the tenth time as Harry fixes them a travel mug each—coffee with oat milk for himself and a very strong, very sweet tea for Louis. “How the fuck do people work mornings?”

“When you’re a social worker, this’ll be normal, babe,” Harry reminds him sweetly. “Think of it as practice.”

“I have to get on a fucking course first, dickhead,” Louis snaps. “Don’t piss me off this early in the day or I’ll go home with another alpha model.”

Harry chuckles all the way to the car. 

The shoot for today is in an indoor location just outside of London, about an hour’s drive away. It’s for Esquire magazine and consists of two male and two female models so they can do a preview shoot for the Autumn-Winter fashion trends. It pays handsomely, he gets to take some of the clothes home, and if the brief that Niall sent over a couple of weeks ago is anything to go off, he’s going to get some incredible shots in some gorgeous unique garments. 

Louis continues to bitch and moan about how tired he is until Harry goes round a McDonald’s drive-thru and buys him a bacon McMuffin and two hash browns and he scoffs them down faster than Harry thought was humanly possible, but it perks him up nicely. 

By the time they arrive at the shoot location, Harry is absolutely gagging for another cup of coffee. The fatigue of getting up early is starting to set in, but he checks his phone and there’s a text from Niall saying he’s arranged for porridge, coffee and cans of Diet Coke for Louis to be sent to his dressing room, which makes him grin. 

God bless Niall Horan. 

The smile slides right off his face, however, when they’re ushered into the building and towards Harry’s dressing room and Harry sees who he’s going to be on set with today. 

It’s Oliver fucking Rowe. 

To say that Harry isn’t Oliver’s biggest fan is an understatement. They’ve worked together a handful of times and each time Harry hasn’t particularly warmed to him. His career had started on _Made in Chelsea_ and from there he’s moved onto modelling, but Harry truly doesn’t think he’s ever met an alpha so self-obsessed and so utterly entitled, and he’s met quite a lot of alphas in his time. 

“Styles,” Oliver drawls by way of greeting. “And you brought a friend with you, how quaint. And an omega friend, no less.”

“Hello to you too,” Harry says, dropping a protective arm over Louis’s shoulders. “I think your dressing room is the other end of the corridor.”

“Yes, I _know_ ,” says Oliver airily, then extends a hand out to Louis. “Oliver Rowe, nice to meet you.”

“Louis Tomlinson,” Louis says politely. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Isn’t it?” Oliver says in that posh London drawl that Harry just despises. “Oh, aren’t you _cute?”_

“Um, thank you?”

“This way, Lou,” Harry says loudly, tugging him in the direction of his own dressing room. “We’ll see you in hair and makeup, Oliver.”

Once they get inside the dressing room, Harry slams the door closed with more force than necessary and lets out a frustrated sort of a growl. “God, I do _not_ like working on shoots with him.”

“Darling, your alpha is showing,” Louis tells him sternly. 

“Urgh, sorry. I can’t be arsed with him today,” Harry harrumphs. Louis giggles. 

“Yeah, I got the feeling you weren’t his biggest fan.”

“He’s a right smarmy prick,” Harry says. “He comes from money, he has a lot of money, and he likes to make sure everyone around him knows it.”

“And he shook my hand,” Louis tacks on knowingly. 

“ _And_ he shook your hand.” Harry takes said hand in his and pulls Louis close. “I didn’t do a very good job of maintaining the just friends spiel here, huh?”

Louis giggles and shrugs. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“No, I’m a very manly alpha who’s protective of what’s his,” Harry insists, sighing deeply as Louis bounces up on his tiptoes and kisses his jaw.

“I don’t disagree,” Louis says. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t find you cute, you cutie. I like that you're a little bit protective of me.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something but they’re interrupted by a knock on the door from one of the shoot runners, giving them a fifteen minute warning before Harry’s due in hair and make-up. So he gives Louis a quick kiss and then he moves to shovel down some breakfast and a cup of coffee, because even though Louis is _very_ distracting, he can’t let himself get too distracted. He’s here to do his job, after all. 

Sixteen minutes later they're on their way down to the salon area. Harry had asked Louis if he wanted to wait for him in the dressing room and Louis had said no, because “why did you bring me here if I’m just going to sit in your dressing room, for fuck’s sake?” and Harry supposed he can’t argue with that. 

To his chagrin, he can hear Oliver before he sees him, flirting obnoxiously loudly with the set producer at the other end of the corridor. 

Harry ducks his face so they can’t see him scowl. He wouldn’t be mad if he never worked with Oliver again, if he’s honest. On every shoot they’ve ever done together he’s found him to be an arrogant knothead a lot of the time, but he’s gorgeous and a good model, so he doesn’t have much choice other than to put up with him every now and again. 

It’s a little annoying that he’s on this shoot because he’s not exactly known for keeping quiet, especially around omegas. And if he doesn’t stop staring at Louis like he wants to eat him, Harry might very well just punch him in the face. 

Louis seems a bit oblivious, skipping around the room and fiddling with literally everything within arm’s reach. The makeup artist across the room is working on another one of the models, a gorgeous beta called Leigh-Anne, but she keeps shooting Louis dangerous looks, so Harry reaches out and pulls him into his lap. 

He feels him freeze in his arms for a split second, and then it registers in Harry’s mind they’re only meant to be friends, and friends don’t traditionally sit in each other’s laps. He loosens his grip enough so Louis could shuffle off if he wants to but he stays, sliding his hand into Harry’s. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m feeling a bit restless, can you tell?”

“A bit,” Harry hums, hooking his chin over Louis’s shoulder. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

“Oh, he’s your new piece,” a voice drawls behind them. Harry’s grip around Louis’s middle tightens and he cranes his neck back to see Oliver standing right behind them gleefully, a steaming polystyrene cup in his hands. “I should have guessed. Harry Styles doesn’t bring any friends to shoots. If I’m honest, I didn’t think you had any friends.”

“Ha ha,” Harry drawls. “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, I’m simply stating facts.” Oliver drops down into the seat next to them. Harry feels Louis go tense in his hold. “You are awfully familiar, you know. Have we met before?”

Harry goes cold. 

Louis’s gripping his hand almost painfully tightly, but he manages to stammer out, “Um, I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?” Oliver takes an obnoxious, loud slurp of his coffee. “You have a very familiar face. Have you lived in London long?”

“Um, a couple of years,” Louis says. Harry’s rather proud that his voice stays level. “My best friend is also a model, so we might have met at an event or something?”

“Oh, maybe,” Oliver muses. “What’s his name?”

“Zayn Malik?”

Oliver shakes his head. “Doesn’t ring any bells. Never mind.” He takes another swig of his coffee. “How long have you two been a thing yet? Haven’t seen any mention of it anywhere.”

“A couple of months,” Harry says vaguely. “It’s not a secret amongst friends, but we’ve not properly announced anything yet.”

Oliver shrugs. “Cute,” he says in a tone that sounds like he’s actually completely indifferent to it. “It’s really going to bother me that your face is so familiar, you know. Did you go to the University of Westminster?”

Louis shakes his head. “No,” he mumbles. “Sorry.”

Luckily for all of them, Harry is called away to makeup and Oliver is called away to hair and the conversation dies on its arse, which is a blessing because Harry was about to start rubbing himself against Louis in a truly primal manner at the rate they were going. 

Louis loiters around while Harry gets his make-up done (thankfully not as fidgety this time) and then goes and sits on the balcony upstairs to watch the shoot for above while Harry joins the other three models, all dressed up to the nines and ready to begin their shoot. 

Normally he likes to let his mind go blank when he’s shooting so he can school his face into something neutral for the shots. He’s usually pretty good at it no matter what’s going on in his personal life, but today he’s struggling because there’s one awful overbearing thought he can’t get out of his head. 

_Why does Oliver fucking Rowe recognise his Louis?_

There’s an obvious answer, of course, but Harry doesn’t want to even entertain the idea because the very thought makes him sick to his stomach. If Louis has slept with Oliver, even if it was merely for the sake of getting him through his rut, makes his blood boil. Every time he looks at Oliver he gets even more wound up about the whole thing and he’s short with everyone on the team, even the producers and dressers, which he knows is uncalled for but he’s so irate he can’t seem to stop himself. 

“Jesus, Styles, who pissed on your doorstep?” Oliver chuckles as he saunters past on their way to lunch. “I’ve never seen you so grumpy. That omega not sucked your dick enough this morning?”

Harry’s about to say something he’d probably regret when Louis appears down the stairs from the balcony, smiling at him awkwardly. “Is it lunchtime?” he asks, holding out his hand for Harry to take. Then he frowns. “You okay, darling?”

“Peachy,” Harry says hoarsely, grabbing Louis’s hand and tugging him close. Louis doesn’t quite stumble but he wobbles a bit as he comes into Harry’s hold, then he takes one of Harry’s hands in both of his. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry assures him, using his free hand on the small of Louis’s back to guide them towards the lunch area. 

He’s off with everyone during their lunch break, which he knows isn’t on, especially because he’s not even sure he _actually_ believes it anymore. Oliver hasn’t spoken to them since and Louis just looks a bit awkward, offering short answers to Harry’s weak attempt at conversation, like he’s not even going to humour Harry anymore. 

So much for bringing them closer together by Louis to his place of work. All it’s done so far is piss him off and send his mind spinning in directions he never wanted it to go in. 

Fucking fantastic. 

The shoot drags on and on and by the end of it, Harry is grouchy as all hell and just wants to go home. He’s worked himself into a right state and he’s absolutely had enough of being on set with Oliver fucking Rowe. He just wants to go home, have a beer, and hold Louis in his arms, kissing him and scenting him so he forgets all about how miserable today has been. 

Unfortunately, that isn’t how their evening pans out. 

When they do get home, Harry’s barely got his shoes off before Louis steps in front of him, stopping him from going any further, his arms akimbo. “You clearly have something you’ve wanted to say all fucking day, so go ahead and say it.”

Harry groans. “Alright, fine. I hate that I’m even asking this but you didn’t… sleep with Oliver Rowe, did you?”

Louis’s mouth drops open and he slaps him on the arm. “Fuck you. No, I did not.”

Harry holds up his hands. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t _really_ think you had. I just wanted to check.”

“Fuck off,” Louis says hotly. “Fuck you. I can’t believe you think I’d sleep with that creep.”

“Baby…” 

“Don’t baby me,” Louis snaps. “ _God,_ I can’t believe you sometimes. Just because I used to be a prostitute, you feel you can ask me if I’ve slept with someone just because they said I was familiar, is that it?”

“I just wanted to ask,” Harry says desperately. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I swear. It’s only because he recognised you and he was so sure he did…”

Louis slaps him on the other shoulder. “God, you’re _unbelievable._ What did I just say?”

“And I believe you,” Harry says loudly, dodging Louis’s next punch. “I’m _sorry.”_

Louis stalks off towards their bedroom and slams the door shut, hard enough to make Harry flinch. 

Well, fuck. 

He sighs and rubs at his eyes, feeling like a total prick. The last thing he ever wants to do is piss Louis off, but he just… he couldn’t not ask. Whether Louis likes it or not, sometimes he’s just a great big knothead, overly protective of what’s his, and he just had to ask. It’s been driving him mad all day. 

With a sigh, he pulls out his phone and opens the Just Eat app, scrolling down to their favourite Chinese restaurant and ordering them dinner. He absolutely does not feel like cooking tonight. He grabs a beer from the fridge and uncaps it, taking several long pulls in quick succession. 

His brilliant idea to bring Louis into work doesn’t feel so brilliant anymore. 

After about ten minutes, he hears their bedroom door open and then footsteps. Louis appears in the doorway after a couple of moments, his hair wet like he’s had a shower and now dressed in one of Harry’s T-shirts and some old football shorts. He looks at Harry for a second before he looks at the floor, shifting from toe to toe awkwardly. 

“Hi,” Harry says, unable to bear the silence. 

“I overreacted,” Louis mumbles sheepishly. “Sorry. I just… the second he asked me if we’d met before, I just _knew_ you were going to ask me if I’d slept with him. I just got in my head about it and lashed out, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Harry replies, opening his arms so Louis can stumble into them. He feels warm and smells fresh, like Harry’s stupidly expensive Tom Ford body wash. “It’s not cool to assume anything and I’m so sorry. It’s like you said earlier, my alpha was showing.”

Louis snorts. “It was. And he was being an alpha dickhead too.” He curls his hand in the front of Harry’s T-shirt and tugs him forward, not enough for him to lose his balance or anything, but enough to bring him closer so Louis can whisper dangerously in his ear, “If you ever, _ever,_ ask me if I’ve slept with someone again without giving me the chance to offer that information to you first, we’re going to fall out big time. Do you understand?”

Harry lets out a very manly squeak and nods. “Yes, of course. Understood.”

Louis smacks a kiss onto his mouth, loud and wet, before letting him go. “Cool. What’s for dinner?”

“I’ve, um, ordered Chinese,” Harry stutters out, a little dumbfounded at what just happened. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Harry, if I don’t laugh or pretend it didn’t happen, I’m going to punch you in the face,” Louis says through gritted teeth. “Now please stop talking and please go and get me a glass of wine.”

Harry does as he’s told. While he knows it’s not hugely alpha of him to just drop everything and pander to his omega, he knows he’s in the doghouse already so he makes quick work of opening a fresh bottle of Louis’s favourite wine and pouring him a hefty glass. 

He joins him on the sofa and hands him his glass of wine. “Baby? Are you not even going to look at me?”

Louis stares at him carefully as he drains his glass of wine in one long _glug._ “Happy?” he says, then pushes the glass back into Harry’s hand. “Are you getting yourself one? I’ll have another.”

“Louis.” Harry sets the glass on the coffee table. “Darling…”

“Harry, don’t push it or so help me I’ll actually go home,” Louis warns. “I’m just… there’s nothing you can say that’s going to fix how embarrassed or upset I am right now, so can you just stop pressing?”

Harry scrabbles to stand up and move back. “You want me to leave you alone?”

Louis hesitates but nods. “I know you think I’m overreacting. I know I even said I was overreacting, like, five minutes ago. But please, Harry, just leave me be. And for fucks’s sake, get me another wine.”

Harry gets him another wine. He brings him his dinner on a plate when it arrives and he keeps his wine glass topped up, but aside from that he does as Louis asks and keeps a safe distance. He distracts himself by giving the kitchen a good deep clean and then going for a long shower to wash all of the makeup off his face and the hair gel from his hair.

As he pads out of the en-suite, towel-dried and naked, he sees that Louis has actually come to bed, which he takes as a small victory. He’d half expected him to sleep on the sofa. He’s tucked under the blankets with the duvet right up to his chin, only visible by the tuft of hair that's poking out from underneath. 

“Hi,” Harry tries. He doesn’t get a response, but he wasn’t really expecting to. “Did you double lock the front door?”

No verbal response again but the hair tuft does move up and down. Harry nods as well before he remembers Louis isn’t looking at him and he stops. 

“Okay, thank you sweetheart.”

Wordlessly, he spends the next ten minutes getting ready for bed. He rubs moisturiser into his face and brushes his teeth but in all that time there isn’t a single peep from Louis. He can’t see Louis’s clothes discarded anywhere so he wonders if he’s just gotten into bed fully dressed. 

He slides into bed next to him, taking care not to take any of the covers away from him, but he knows he won’t be able to just lie there and try to sleep. 

“Talk to me,” Harry begs. “I can’t sleep next to you knowing you’re unhappy. Never go to bed angry and all that, right?”

Louis doesn’t move. 

“Louis.”

Louis doesn’t react again, so Harry reaches out and rests a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently. 

“Louis, please.”

“Oh my god, get the hint,” Louis snaps, not moving his head but rolling his leg so Harry’s hand drops off it. “I already told you there’s nothing you can say that’ll make me feel better.”

“I’m not gonna let us go to bed angry at each other,” Harry says gently. “We haven’t done that ever and I’m not about to start now.” He squeezes Louis’s knee through the duvet. “Will you just talk to me?”

“Oh my god, what do you _want_?” Louis rolls over and glares between Harry’s face and the hand on his leg. “Do you want to have sex or something, is that it?”

“No, Lou, I do not want to have sex,” Harry says exasperatedly. “I want to talk.”

“Ah yes, because that’s what you and I do,” Louis says dryly. “Everyone else I just have sex with. That’s how I know these people and how we communicate, didn’t you know?”

“Louis, you know I don’t think that,” Harry snaps, voice bordering on his alpha timbre, not because he wants to yell at Louis but because he’s angry at _himself._ His tone makes Louis jerk upright and he holds his hands up apologetically. “I’m sorry, I just hate that this has escalated into this.”

“This is likely to happen, you know,” Louis stammers out, visibly upset. He is still fully dressed, wearing his Adidas roll neck jumper and trackies from earlier. “I saw hundreds of alphas like Oliver Rowe. Every rich alpha who has somewhere to be or just fancies a fuck uses services like it. And somehow it’s not embarrassing for the alphas. It’s only embarrassing for me, the omega, who wants to try and live a normal life afterwards because I’m never going to be allowed to forget it.”

Harry shakes his head. “But we’ve talked about this and how it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Louis lets out a frustrated type of snarl. “Yet am I out here asking everyone who fawns over you whether they know who you are because you’ve slept with them?” Harry doesn’t answer. “Exactly.”

“Oh, Louis,” Harry croaks sadly. “I’m a right prick, aren’t I?” 

Louis nods and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “I could very well have slept with Oliver Rowe, but does it fucking matter if I did? It was a business transaction at best.” Beneath all of the tears and the upset, he just looks furious. “Youk know, I gave up my source of income for you so these stupid fucking conversations wouldn’t happen.”

“I know, I know this,” Harry tries to say. He feels like such a _stupid knothead._ “All of this I know on a surface level, I promise. I just… the stupid fucking alpha in me can’t help it and I hate it.”

“You’re such a cunt,” Louis says hotly, which makes Harry bark a sudden, awkward laugh because he was not expecting _that_. 

“Yeah, I am,” he mumbles with a shrug. “But I’m a very sorry cunt who only wants to make you happy.”

Louis _almost_ cracks a smile at that. “I’m still so fucking mad at you,” he says lowly, then gives Harry’s bare nipple a sharp pinch, which makes him yell out. “But I also really want a fucking cuddle.”

Harry moves forward and lets Louis fall into his arms. He can feel how upset and exhausted Louis feels through his scent; it’s sharper and a little less intense than usual, like him being sad has dulled it somewhat. It makes Harry’s heart lurch and he cradles Louis close, murmuring endless reminders that he’s sorry, that he never meant it, that Louis means the _world_ to him.

“I’m sorry,” Louis ends up whispering into Harry’s shoulder after a long time. “I shouldn’t be mad at you. I feel like all I do is overreact and push you away, then I expect you to make all the effort to fix it.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Harry brushes his hands through Louis’s hair. “You’re hurting and I never want to be the one who causes that, never ever. So I’m sorry too.”

“It just felt like criticism,” Louis admits quietly. “The way you had to ask me if I’d slept with him. I knew you wanted to ask me from the moment he’d asked me the question. And it felt like you were judging me in that moment, and I’ve never felt like you’ve judged me before. I love that you’ve never judged me and I just felt like that crumbled away a bit in that moment.”

Harry could _cry_ , honestly. The hurt and the vulnerability in Louis’s voice is heartbreaking and he feels like a right bastard. It’s not often Louis wears his heart on his sleeve like this, so he must have really hurt him for him to be this defeated, and that’s _unacceptable._

“If you ever felt like I judged you then I’m so fucking sorry. It’s always just my stupid fucking alpha acting protective and in defence of you. And if anyone has anything to criticise anything, then they can damn well criticise me as well. I hired you, I paid you, and then it evolved into what it is now. It takes two to tango and all that.”

“It was a business transaction,” Louis says flatly, but he doesn’t sound angry so much as defeated, leaning into Harry’s side. “God, can you just…”

Harry pauses. “I can still leave if you want me to.”

Louis shakes his head and sighs. “No,” he mutters. “I’m mad at you but I don’t want to be without you. So can you just, like, tell me nice things and kiss me and I’ll probably wake up in a better mood.”

Harry tucks two fingers under Louis’s chin and pulls him in for a soft kiss. It takes a second but Louis does kiss back and it doesn’t take long for things to get more heated than Harry intended them to. 

He takes his time undressing Louis, kissing over every inch of his exposed skin, holding him close and murmuring words of love and reassurance into his skin. 

Eventually he gets to Louis’s most private parts and he rolls him carefully onto his stomach so he’s more comfortable. He buries his face between Louis’s cheeks and licks into him, long and languid, until he pulls a messy orgasm out of him. He fingers him to a second, then rolls him back onto his back and crawls up his body, peppering the tears on his cheeks away with gentle kisses. 

“You were never a business transaction to me,” Harry promises him as he starts to press inside him, kissing him tenderly as he takes a few moments to adjust. “From the first minute I met you, I knew you were so important.” He squeezes Louis’s hands in his, nosing at his neck. “So important to me.”

He feels a little bit like he’s on fire as he waits for Louis to give him the OK to move. Everything is charged and intense and passionate between them as their hot breaths mingle, their lips close but not touching. He feels like the luckiest man in the world. 

He doesn’t feel like he’s ever close enough to Louis, not even when they’re making love. 

“You can move,” Louis whimpers after a few moments, shifting his hips up a touch so Harry can press even deeper. “Please kiss me.”

Harry does as he’s told, licking into Louis’s mouth and moving them even closer together. He slides his hands down so he can hitch Louis’s legs up across his back so he can get a better angle. He pulls back and thrusts upwards carefully, then leans back again so he can balance on his knees, then he thrusts in again to Louis’s tight heat. 

The most beautiful moans come out of Louis’s mouth as Harry starts to build up a rhythm. He fists his hand in Harry’s hair and pulls their lips together, kissing him languidly, only breaking apart when Harry slips out and has to pull back to push himself back inside. 

“It wasn’t one for me either. A business transaction,” Louis weeps into his shoulder, gasping as Harry thrusts up and nails him where he wants it. “Oh my god. _Harry._ Yes, right _there_.”

“You’re so much more than that,” Harry whispers into his skin, cradling Louis’s head against his chest. He continues to fuck him slow and deep, murmuring soft, soothing words, because he _needs_ Louis to know. He needs Louis to know. “You’re everything to me, Louis. You are my entire world.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis whimpers again, hiccuping out another sob as Harry leans forward and nips at the bonding spot on his chest, an unspoken promise. “Harry, _please._ Want it harder _._ Want to feel you tomorrow.”

Harry does as he’s told and starts to drive into Louis, hard and fast until his knees are burning and his arms start to tremble under his weight. He’s so pleasure-addled himself that he feels a bit mad with it, so caught up in the moment that he nearly blurts it out with every thrust. 

If he’s not careful, he’s going to tell Louis he’s in love with him. 

Louis sobs as he comes, his nails digging painfully into Harry’s shoulder as his body goes taut and then lax, thick spurts staining Harry’s belly. 

He holds Harry’s face in his hands but doesn’t kiss him. He just holds their faces together so they’re breathing in the same air, just keeping each other pressed close, not kissing but near enough. 

He smells glorious after sex, the scent of his sweat and jizz mixing with the glorious pheromones rolling off him in waves, telling Harry he feels safe and cherished in his arms. They stay pressed close for the rest of the night, because in all honesty Harry doesn’t think he could let up his hold on Louis even if he wanted to. It’s just so important for Louis to know how much Harry cares about him and if that means just holding him until he physically can’t anymore, then that’s exactly what he’ll do.

It feels like the right thing to do, almost, to not keep talking about their argument. They both know what they need to do to work on things, both individually and as a couple, so after they have a proper, frank conversation the following morning over breakfast, things really do feel clearer. 

On a rational level, Harry knows that the chances of them actually coming into contact with one of Louis’s former clients is incredibly slim and the first thing he does in the morning is pinky promises Louis that he’ll never ask again. Louis promises that god forbid it ever does happen, he’ll tell Harry straight away and they’ll deal with it then. There’s no secrets between them and they aren’t going to start now. 

Louis is also getting better at talking to Harry first about when he feels insecure, which is usually if he spends too much time on his phone, looking at Instagram and Twitter and news outlets that talk about Harry. This is still all new to him and he’s also glutton for punishment, often going looking for articles and getting wound up by things written way before they even got together. In terms of articles that try and confirm their relationship, there’s only a few places that have snapped photos of them together but nowhere seems to have identified Louis by name, which is exactly how they intend to keep it for now. 

It’s difficult, because Louis seems torn between wanting to keep their relationship hidden for now so his past doesn’t become public knowledge, but also panicking that people are going to find out and release it before they do. There isn’t really an obvious compromise for the time being because whenever Harry suggests going public, he gets shouted down, so he leaves it. 

They’ll do it when the time is right. For now, though, all he can do is keep Louis close and also scold him for googling their names too much. 

He isn’t very good at asking for Harry’s attention when he knows he’s working either. When they’re together in bed or cooking in the kitchen or curled up watching TV he’s all over him, but when Harry’s in his office he doesn’t often come and disturb him. 

Harry usually works with the door open so sometimes he sees Louis tip-toe down the corridor and he tries to encourage him in, because it’s not healthy for them to be in the same flat all day and not take five minute breaks just for a quick chat (or sometimes a snogging session). 

It’s one of those things that isn’t easy, but it gets easier. Louis isn’t an omega who just suffers through any shit their alpha throws their way and Harry is _well_ aware when Louis is mad at him, but after awhile it becomes more of an in-joke than a grudge, like when Harry tells Louis that he’s got a shoot in Birmingham a few weeks later and Louis saying, “Do you want me to come or are you worried I’ll have slept with the photographer?”

Harry had sputtered out a hundred rushed apologies and Louis’s laugh had been so loud it had made Harry’s ears ring. 

“I’m mostly teasing,” he said with a grin, winding his arms around Harry's middle and kissing the pout off his face. “But also I don’t have to come if you don’t want me to.”

“I want you to come,” Harry said, then he’d kissed Louis again. “I want you to see I’m actually a decent model and not just a bloody idiot knothead.”

There was also the day when they were picking up breakfast in a coffee shop and the completely bewildered barista had asked if he was Harry Styles, and Louis had said, “Oh my god, did you sleep with her?” in a loud, sarcastic voice in the doorway, and although he was _mortified_ for the poor girl, Harry could tell it was more to prove a point than piss him off. 

So Harry takes Louis home and drags him to their bed, then spends the next hour showing him that he’s the only omega he plans to sleep with ever again, then buys them breakfast from a different coffee shop on UberEats. Clearly they’re never going back to that one.

Harry means it entirely - Louis is the only person he ever plans to sleep with ever again. Ever since his rut, he’s not even looked at another person in any sort of romantic light, and on top of that the sex with Louis is hands down the best sex of his life. It’s not hugely adventurous, at least not yet, but it’s definitely the most invigorating, exciting and pleasurable sex of his life. 

Sex is very much a big part of their relationship these days, which is something it wasn’t at the beginning. It took them a while to start sleeping together but once they crossed that bridge they quickly became insatiable. 

They’re two red-blooded males in their mid-twenties who are also soulmates, so it’s pretty normal to shag at least once, sometimes twice a day, at least in Harry’s humble opinion. 

But now things have heated up between them, now they’ve gone from new, tentative boyfriends who aren’t used to being in relationships to committed young men who are _almost_ ready to say ‘I love you’, they’re bloody insatiable. 

Harry’s grown quite fond of waking up to a sleep-rumpled, still stretched Louis who is more than willing to roll onto his side or belly and lets Harry use him to sort out his morning wood. Sometimes they’ll fuck on their lunch break, and a couple of times Louis has clambered under his desk while he’s working and sucked him off, which is slowly becoming one of Harry’s favourite things.

And then in the evenings and on the weekends, the sky's the limit, _honestly_. They fuck in every position that their bodies physically let them, and as many times as their bodies let them. Harry’s back aches constantly, but it’s in the best way, like if he stretches too quickly he can remember holding Louis up and fucking him against the shower wall, his tight body completely at Harry’s mercy. 

Harry’s had his fair share of partners, one night stands and short flings that haven't amounted to anything, but none of them compete with Louis in the bedroom. Louis is a minx with the stamina of a teenager and the flexibility of a gymnast, and he’s almost randier than Harry, if that’s at all possible. 

They’re always touching in one way or another, hands clasped together or arms around waists, or pressed shoulder to shoulder closer than is strictly necessary when cooking or working or cleaning their teeth. And then at night they fall asleep wrapped together, usually with Harry as the big little spoon, Louis’s arms draped over him, his leg hiked up over Harry’s thigh. 

Harry’s obsessed with everything about it all—being in a relationship, being with an omega, being with _Louis._ He loves having sex, fucking and making love, but he loves the domesticity perhaps even more. 

He loves the way that Louis insists he doesn’t live here but hasn’t gone home in weeks and it feels like he never will again. He lives here now and Harry has no intention of ever letting him go back, or spending the night without him ever again for that matter. 

He loves the way that for every thing of his in the flat, there’s another thing for Louis. There’s green top milk in the fridge next to Harry’s oat milk, there’s copious boxes of sugary cereal in the cupboard with Harry’s granola and there’s a bunch of frozen chicken products in the freezer that Harry would _never_ have considered buying without Louis’s say-so. 

Since the one night they stayed at Louis’s flat a couple of months ago, Louis hasn’t been home once. He brought quite a lot of his stuff with him, clothes and toiletries and his laptop and the like, so a lot of his stuff is scattered around the flat but for the most part, unless they’re leaving the flat to go out for dinner or to meet some friends, he wears mostly Harry’s clothing. 

Harry bought himself a huge L-shaped sofa when he first moved in, but it’s always felt too big for him. Now, Louis has practically started nesting on the sofa, always tucking himself up even smaller in Harry’s jumpers while digging under blankets. 

He vehemently denies it at first, and even though this might be Harry’s first serious relationship with an omega, he isn’t an idiot. 

“It’s _not_ a fucking nest,” Louis tells him for the twentieth time since Harry questioned it. “Now shut up and come give me a cuddle.”

Harry remains standing. “It’s _definitely_ not a nest?” he asks again, blinking innocently. “This big pile of my jumpers and blankets from the bed, isn’t a nest?”

“No, it really fucking isn’t,” Louis snaps. “And you know what? You’ve lost your cuddle privileges.”

“That’s a shame.” Harry shrugs nonchalantly and goes to reach for one of the jumpers tucked under Louis’s thigh. “I guess you won’t mind if I have this back then.”

Louis squeaks and smacks his hand away. “Don’t you fucking dare…”

Harry holds his hands up in surrender. “I thought it wasn’t a nest, babe.”

Louis pulls the jumper from Harry’s hands and tucks it under his chin, glaring at him with wild, angry eyes. He looks like a disgruntled kitten. Harry loves him so much. 

“It’s not a nest,” Louis snaps at him, then hisses as Harry moves his hand back towards him. “You can fuck right off if you think…”

“Can I just say it’s a beautiful nest?” Harry drawls, ducking down and kissing the corner of Louis’s mouth. Louis bats him away and scowls. “Baby, it’s more than okay to have a nest here.”

“It’s not a _fucking_ … oh, you know what? Forget it,” Louis barks, then he sighs. “It actually isn’t a nest, not that I would have one in a perfect world.”

“No?” Harry perches on the sofa next to him and lifts his arm up, and Louis tucks himself underneath it without a second’s hesitation. He doesn’t _actually_ want Harry to fuck right off then. “Why not?”

“Because, _Harold.”_ Louis flicks his nipple. “It’s not my nest because it’s not my home, not really. It’s your home and I’m a guest, you know?”

Harry frowns and furrows his brows. “It is your home though. You live here too.”

Louis shrugs and he doesn’t quite meet Harry’s eyes when he says, “Yes, but not officially.”

“Move in with me then,” Harry says, easy as breathing. It doesn’t even feel like a groundbreaking question, just something that makes _sense_ more than anything. “I mean, you basically already live here.”

Louis gapes at him. “Harry Styles, have you gone completely insane?”

“Insane for you,” Harry sing-songs. “Come on, say yes. Give up that flat you never go to, move in here and build your perfect nest. What’s to say no to?”

“You know, I’m getting mad deja vu from this,” Louis tells him. He sits up a little straighter. “Well, I suppose it makes sense, is that what you’re going to tell me? It makes sense and it’ll save money and I _basically_ live here anyway.”

“Yes,” Harry deadpans. “So, how about it, sweetheart?”

Louis pretends to think about it. “Three months together and you’re already moving me in? Yeah, alright, that seems fair.”

“Yeah?” Harry’s heart is banging against his chest but his grin is wide and painful. “So you’re not kicking up a fuss?”

“I’ll kick up a fuss if you touch my nest again,” Louis warns him, then scrabbles into his lap and smashes their lips together. Harry finds himself laughing into the kiss but his hands come up to Louis’s hips easily, drawing him in, holding him close. 

“I wouldn’t dare,” he mumbles against his lips. “If you want, you can have one of the spare rooms for it. Whatever you want.”

“No, here,” Louis grumbles, then leans forward so they both topple backwards, into the mess of blankets and jumpers. “And you can come in, I suppose. It is in _our_ home.”

“Say that again,” Harry says, pulling Louis in and cradling him against his chest. 

“Our home,” Louis giggles, arms right around Harry’s middle. “A home that we live in together that is entirely paid for by you but I get to live in because nobody sucks your dick like I do.”

Harry pinches him on the bum. “We won’t have any of that, thank you.”

Louis hums and shakes his head. “Look, I think it’s going to take me longer than you’d like it to to get that but Harry…” He cups Harry’s face. “I… want this. I want you and this life and everything about it. I want it.”

“God, I want you so much,” Harry breathes out. “I’m so happy you said yes.”

“Well, you make it fucking difficult to say no, stud,” Louis tells him. “Now, you wanna help me build a nest?”

It’s probably too soon for a decision like this—the hasn’t even managed to tell Louis he loves him yet, for fuck’s sake—but Harry can’t bring himself to care. Not when they’re able to transform half of the couch into a cozy, perfect-for-them nest that fits them both in nicely, and then Louis climbs into his lap and kisses him breathless for hours and hours afterwards. 

It’s worth it. It’s absolutely worth it.

Louis puts a ban on couch sex then and there - “my nest will not be sullied by your big dick, knothead” - but that doesn’t stop them shagging on the rug a few days later. 

And funnily enough, it’s them shagging like rabbits in the middle of the house in the middle of the day backfires on them just a few days after that. 

Just because they’re not fucking on the couch doesn’t mean the living room is out of bounds and Harry learns this one Saturday morning when Louis drops to his knees and pulls down his pyjama bottoms while some cookery programme plays on the telly. Their plans for the day were few and far between—Louis wanted to get a haircut and Harry had thought about popping to Harrod’s to get some new bedding that’s _theirs—_ but now they’ve been sidetracked. 

So Harry’s got his pyjamas around his ankles, his hands curled in Louis’s hair that’s long and fluffy and gorgeous because he’s been putting off this haircut, Louis’s got his dick halfway down this throat…

And then the doorbell goes. 

Louis freezes, pulling off Harry’s length with a loud pop. “Who the fuck is that?”

Harry stares down at him and shrugs. “I have no fucking idea.”

The doorbell goes again. “Harry,” Louis hisses. “I’m _naked.”_

“Well, I’m not exactly dressed to impress.” Harry gestures to his rock-hard cock, still level with Louis’s face. “What the fuck do we do?”

He flinches as Louis slaps him on the knee. 

“ _Ow.”_

Louis scrabbles to his feet. “Listen here, pop star, your doorbell doesn’t just _ring._ You live in a fucking penthouse flat. You find out who it is.”

Harry tries to push his erection down with the heel of his hand. “Well, _darling_ , if you get me one second…”

There’s a hammering on his door then and both men freeze again. There’s only a few people who have permission to come this far upstairs without Harry accompanying them, people he actually trusts to know his address, but they’re people like Niall and his mum and…

“Harry, you better be awake!”

“ _Gemma_?” 

Harry tugs his pyjama bottoms back up and rushes to tie them, then turns to Louis, but he’s already fleeing back towards the bedroom. 

“Lou, no, wait…”

The banging on the door continues. “Harry, is that you?”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry hisses. “That’s my sister.”

Louis’s head appears in the doorway, his eyes narrowed into slits. “I know that’s your fucking sister,” he snaps. “Which is why I can’t greet her naked, you fucking…”

Harry’s phone starts ringing from the bedroom. “Is that her?” Harry asks, then winces when Louis pulls a face at him. “Sorry, that was a stupid question.”

“Wasn’t it?” Louis drawls. “Now, go and answer the fucking door.”

“How’s my cock?” Harry asks dumbly, and he really shouldn’t be surprised when Louis throws a pair of pants at him. “Okay, sorry!”

His phone rings again and then Gemma thumps on the front door again. “Harry Edward Styles!”

Embarrassed, flustered and still a little confused by what’s going on, Harry makes a beeline for the front door and flings it open. “Gems?”

In true older sister fashion, Gemma twists his nipple by way of greeting. “Fucking took you long enough, loser.”

“I was… busy?” Harry shrugs and stands to the side so she can step into the hallway. “I was…”

“Harry Styles, it _reeks_ of omega in here,” Gemma shrieks, turning back and looking at him with pure delight. She’s an alpha herself and happily paired with her omega fiancé, Michal, but it does mean she’ll have a sharp nose for other omega scents. “What the fuck? Have you got a one night stand in here?”

“ _No_ ,” Harry snaps. He feels a bit horrified that his sister thinks that of him. “No, Gemma, shit.” He grabs her wrist and tugs her into the kitchen. “Look, Gems, I didn’t know you were coming or I would have, like, tidied or gotten some food in but there’s… there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Gemma throws her arms around him and pulls him into a tight hug. “Oh, Harry,” she squeals happily into his shoulder. “I’ve missed you. I’ve really fucking missed you.”

Harry tucks his face into her shoulder and nods. He misses Gemma all the time and he can’t quite believe she’s here, if he’s honest. “I’ve missed you so much,” he mumbles. “Why are you here?”

Gemma slaps him lightly. “Can’t a big sister just drop in on her baby brother without an agenda?” The facade lasts all of two seconds before she sighs. “Alright. Michal and I are moving to London, like, properly this time and we’re house hunting. He’s coming down tomorrow with the pup so I can spend some time with you today but…” She beams at him. “Sounds like I’ll be spending it with you and someone else.”

“Fucking _finally,_ ” Harry exclaims, clapping his hands. “Just Mum to go and you’ll all be down here with me, thank god.”

“Mum won’t move down and you know it,” Gemma tuts. “But it’s time for us, you know? What with my business taking off a bit more, and Michal can obviously teach at whatever school needs him. Anyway, let’s get a cuppa, can we? I’m gasping for one.” She looks around pointedly. “And, um, maybe some introductions can be made?”

Harry feels himself get red in the face. “I’ll, um, set the machine going and um, check if he’s ready.”

“It’s a he, is it?” Gemma says gleefully, rubbing her hands together. “You’ve got a boyfriend now?”

Harry shrugs. “Boyfriend, possible soulmate,” he muses, and Gemma’s eyes practically bulge out of her skull. “He’s called Louis.”

“Louis,” Gemma repeats. “Harry and Louis. That’s a lovely pair of names.” She cranes her neck down the corridor but their bedroom door is still closed. “Did you leave him in bed?”

“Um, yeah,” Harry agrees, because that's far easier than ever admitting to what she could have walked in on. “I’ll, um. Have a coffee and I’ll go and see if he’s awake.”

“You’re such a good host,” Gemma drawls. “Barely seen me in months and now making me make my own coffee. Cheers, H.”

“Look, do you want to meet Louis or not?” Harry huffs. He shifts awkwardly from one foot to another. “I, um. When we’re alone later I’ll explain some more, like, his story and our story and why I kind of kept him a secret.”

Gemma snorts. “You did a jolly good job of it. I didn’t have a clue, H. But I don’t doubt you have your reasons. You _are_ Harry Styles, after all.”

“Shut up,” Harry whines. “I hate it when you call me that.”

“It’s your name, dickhead.” Gemma shoves him towards the hallway and moves over to the coffee machine. “You want one?”

“Yeah, please. Louis will have tea.”

“How does he take it? Might as well make it, gain some older sister points.”

Harry grins as he heads down the hallway towards the bedroom. He really has missed his sister and he’s excited for her to meet Louis, even if this isn’t exactly the meeting he had planned. He’d kind of pictured taking them all—his Mum, Gemma and her little family, and Louis—to a fancy restaurant, treating all his favourite people to delicious food and fine wine to celebrate the great company. 

But this might be even better. 

He opens the door to his bedroom to see Louis sat cross-legged on the bed, now clothed and cuddling a pillow to his chest. “Baby?”

“That’s your sister,” Louis says flatly, then glares up at him. “You might have told me she was coming.”

“Did I look like I had any idea she was coming?” Harry sits down on the bed next to him and puts his hand on Louis’s knee. “And she’s excited to meet you. She’s making you a cuppa as we speak.”

Louis lets out a kind of frustrated snarl and tries to bat Harry off. “She didn’t know I even existed,” he grumbles. “How can I make a nice first impression when I’m about to come across as some dirty little secret?”

Harry’s stomach clenches uncomfortably. “Baby, I thought we agreed…”

“I know what we agreed,” Louis interrupts. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He sighs, then rests his head against Harry’s shoulder, who brings his hand up to brush against Louis’s cheeks. “Will she like me?”

“Of course she will,” Harry promises. “There’s no way she wouldn’t. You’re very likeable.”

Louis smacks him with the pillow in his lap. “And I suppose you want me to keep the fact I used to be a prostitute a secret?”

“I’m not embarrassed of you,” Harry says, winding an arm around his shoulders. “I’m not going to pretend to be, darling. And hey, maybe telling her about how we met isn’t going to be my opening sentence but I’m going to tell her.”

“I know you will,” Louis grumbles. “I’m just being a shit.” He sighs. “I suppose we better go out and meet her then.”

Harry kisses his temple. “Come on, she’s making you a brew.”

“So you said,” Louis says, then hops off the bed. He takes a second to stand in front of the mirror and smooth his shirt down. “Is this outfit alright?”

“You look beautiful,” Harry answers honestly. “Come on, hold my hand if you want.”

Louis snatches his hand away before Harry can take it. “No,” he glares. “What the fuck? I don’t want to look like I need a babysitter, fucking hell.”

They bicker lightly up to the kitchen before Louis hisses at him to shut up and stop trying to show him up. When they get to the living room, Gemma’s sat on the sofa scrolling through her phone, two steaming mugs on the coffee table. 

“Louis,” she breathes out, standing up and hurrying forward to pull him into her arms. Louis looks a bit shell shocked but he goes easily, winding his arms around her back. “Oh my god, you’re _gorgeous.”_ She pulls back and stares at him in a way that makes Harry feel all warm and gooey inside. “Sorry, hello, sorry. Nice to meet you. I’m this one’s sister, _obviously.”_

“Hi,” Louis croaks. “Sorry, I look a right mess. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Nonsense.” Gemma waves him off. “You really are gorgeous, you know. _Gorgeous._ What are you doing with this scruffy git?”

Louis giggles airily as Harry huffs out an indignant “ _hey”._

 _“_ I ask myself the same question on a daily basis,” he tells Gemma with a grin. “Probably something to do with his money.”

Gemma bursts out laughing. “I like him already,” she says merrily. She gestures at the sofa. “Come, I made you a cuppa. Oh, and I hope you don’t mind,” she says brightly. “I folded up these blankets and clothes. Made me feel a bit… iffy, you know, as a big sister.”

Harry feels Louis tense up next to him and his mouth flaps open. “Um…”

“I mean, it’s all very well and good because you didn’t know I was coming, I suppose,” Gemma continues. “But it’s a bit weird sitting on the sofa where you two have clearly ripped each other’s clothes off.”

Louis whimpers, quiet enough that only Harry hears, but his heart breaks a little. His whole nest, his perfect little happy space, destroyed in seconds. It may look like just discarded piles of clothes and blankets to an outsider, but Harry knows that everything was meticulously placed and exactly how he wanted it. 

“Um,” Harry says again stupidly, pulling Louis in by the waist. Part of him wants to cradle him in his arms and glare his sister down but he knows that’s probably not the best course of action. “Gems, maybe we should move to the kitchen.”

“Why?” Gemma asks, pulling a face. “No, the sofa is fine, especially now I’ve cleared some room.” She goes to shift into the space where Louis’s nest had once been but they both end up yelling out a “No!” before he can sit down and she freezes. “What the hell is going on with you two? Is there a fucking jizz stain on here or something?”

“No, it’s more…” _Fuck,_ this is _not_ how Harry had imagined his sister and his boyfriend meeting to go. “It’s just that’s _Louis’s_ spot.”

“Louis won’t mind,” Gemma insists, glancing at Louis, and then her face drops. “Louis?”

“Um,” Louis says shakily. “Sorry, I just…”

“Oh my god,” Gemma interrupts, her eyes going wide as she realises. “I’ve just destroyed your fucking nest, haven’t I?”

“Just a little bit?” Louis grimaces. “It’s fine, it's honestly fine.”

Gemma looks _mortified._ “Oh my god,” she gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t think, I’m so sorry. My omega doesn’t even make nests so I didn’t even…” She lunges forward and smacks Harry’s arm, _hard._ “Why didn’t you warn me? This is a _horrible_ first impression I’m making.”

“Okay, _ow.”_ Harry goes to slap her back but misses because she’s too busy pulling Louis into her arms. “I mean, I didn’t think you’d go full mum and start tidying up my house after being inside it for five seconds, did I?”

“Shut up, Harry,” she snaps exasperatedly. “Go and get the poor lad a fresh cup of tea, _Jesus.”_

Harry smiles softly and obediently takes a step back, and lets his boyfriend and sister have their moment. 

*

It’s getting harder and harder for Harry not to blurt out that he’s in love with Louis by the day. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue in every conversation they have, every time they’re in the same room. It’s all he thinks about from the moment he wakes up with Louis in his arms until he goes to sleep at night. He thinks about it while he’s working and he thinks about it when he’s in the shower, he thinks about it while he’s cooking and cleaning and doing the weekly shop. 

He’s got a very one-track mind these days, that’s for sure. 

He’s been very careful not to say it during arguments and even more careful not to say it on a day-to-day basis, like whenever Louis brings him lunch or a smoothie or just comes and gives him a kiss because he wants to. 

The hardest thing is not to say it during sex, when Louis is gorgeous and pliant underneath him, crying Harry’s name like he’s all he’s ever wanted. He’s certainly everything Harry’s ever wanted, but the time isn’t _right_ yet. He doesn’t doubt that Louis will say it back or anything like that, but he wants it to be special in one way or another. 

Louis deserves more than his boyfriend just blurting it out over a plate of steak and chips on a Wednesday night, so until Harry figures out how to make it perfect, he’s just going to keep it to himself for now. 

It’s not entirely his secret, he supposes. Liam knows and now Gemma knows, because when she was visiting Louis had taken himself off to bed early so the two siblings could have a catch up, and he’d blurted it out then. 

Gemma had been nothing but apologetic about the nest and had spent the entire morning fawning over Louis like she’d kicked his cat. Harry could tell Louis was trying to downplay it at first, but it’s not an easy thing on a purely biological level for an omega to have their nest destroyed by another alpha and feel okay about it. 

She takes them out for a ridiculously large boozy brunch to apologise and spends the rest of the day telling Louis every single embarrassing story from their childhood that Harry had been wanting to keep secret for as long as possible. By the end of the meal, the pair seemed to have become fast friends and despite the whole nest debacle, Harry couldn’t have wished for a better meeting between his two favourite people. 

Once Louis was in bed, they’d shared a bottle of wine and he’d told his sister everything, from how they’d met and how he’d gone from shagging the random omega that Niall had picked out from a list to finding his soulmate, practically moving him in, and being on the cusp of saying _I love you._

To say she’d been shocked at first would be an understatement and, much like Harry had predicted, she’d spent the first ten minutes of the conversation flapping, but once Harry had explained that it’s how they’d met and to his knowledge, Louis hadn’t been with anyone since Harry’s rut, she’d immediately softened. 

“And you love him,” Gemma said, not a question. In fact, she looked positively delighted by the idea. 

“I do,” Harry whispered, then frantically looked over his shoulder to check Louis hadn’t re-emerged and heard that. “But it’s not… I haven’t said that to him yet.”

Gemma clapped her hands together. “But you’re going to, yeah?” She took a sip of her wine. “I mean, Jesus, Harry. I’ve never seen a couple so in tune and so clearly besotted with one another, and I’ve only been around you two for one day.” She squeezed his knee. “I like him a lot already. And he loves you too, I’m sure of it. And you deserve this more than anyone I know.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks, Gems. I do… I do really feel like he’s it for me. Like I know that we’ve moved quite fast even for soulmates, but I just… I feel it. I feel that he’s my person and I can’t see anything breaking us up.”

Gemma elbowed him. “So tell him. Tell him tomorrow.”

Harry shook his head. “Not yet. It’s not the right time yet. I wanna, like, do something special for him.” He snorted. “I’m in the middle of emailing back and forth with this bloke I know to get us VIP seats for the Man U vs Villa game this weekend followed by dinner at Umesuzhi, that kind of special.”

“You have too much money,” Gemma said dryly. “But you’re cute. And I want you to text me as soon as you do it.”

The VIP ticket plan hadn’t ended up working out, so Harry had spent the best part of the weekend sulking, wondering if he should say it now while they wait for their Indian takeaway to arrive. 

(He chickens out, and so the search for the perfect opportunity continues.)

There are times when he thinks he just _needs_ to say it, and one of those times is when Louis wanders into his office randomly one afternoon, looking a bit like he’s lost in his own house. 

Harry’s on the phone to Niall for their weekly diary meeting, just checking what the next couple of weeks look like in both their calendars and making sure they line up. It’s nothing particularly exciting or urgent, so when Louis appears in the doorway, Harry gestures that he’s on the phone but then waves him over. 

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles, then goes to duck back out, but Harry keeps gesturing him in. He half expects Louis to come over and perch on his lap, but instead he sits in the armchair in the far corner, not looking at Harry and chewing his thumbnail while Harry winds down the call. 

Harry watches him carefully as Niall rabbits on about scheduling for the next week, about the shoot they’ve got for Harper’s Bazaar on Wednesday and the TV interview on Friday. It’s nothing Harry isn’t accustomed to so he agrees and makes a few notes in his diary, but he isn’t really paying attention, not when Louis looks and _smells_ the way he does. 

There’s a touch of distress to him, and something else Harry can’t quite pinpoint, but he thinks it may be... _embarrassment_ , perhaps? And his scent aside, he looks visibly upset and bothered about something, which Harry very much wants to get to the bottom of. 

“Any questions?” Niall asks finally, and Harry rushes to shake his head even though Niall can’t see him. 

“No, mate, nothing we haven’t done before, is it?” He licks his lips. “If anything changes, text it to me, will you? I’m gonna go, Louis’s just made us some lunch.”

“Look at you,” Niall coos. “Getting lunch made for you. How domestic and darling.”

“Fuck off,” Harry says with a grin. “Bye, mate.”

Niall’s laughter can be heard even as he’s putting the phone down. Harry waits a beat to see if Louis comes over himself, but he barely reacts to Harry hanging up the phone, doesn’t even look over. 

“Sweetheart?” Harry clears this throat. “Are you alright?”

Louis glances over slowly. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that Louis is in fact, very not alright. If anything, he looks seconds away from crying. “Harry.”

Harry moves towards him carefully, arms outstretched in case Louis wants to move into them. “Baby, what’s going on? You’re…”

“I’m not alright, if I’m honest,” Louis says with a bitter, hoarse laugh. “I feel the opposite from alright right now.”

“Can I hug you?”

“Please,” Louis croaks. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and squeezes him so tightly that it takes Harry a bit aback, but he dutifully cuddles him in, letting Louis adjust himself in his arms so he’s tucked up, completely engulfed. 

“Baby,” Harry murmurs, tucking his nose in the juncture between Louis’s neck and shoulder, taking a deep breath. His scent is all off and his heart is pounding, so Harry hopes that he’s able to soothe him at least somewhat with gentle touches and his own calming scent. “Baby, what’s going on?”

Instead of answering, Louis lets out a noise that sounds like a cross between a frustrated sigh and a scream. It’s almost comical but Harry isn't laughing. It’s starting to worry Harry how sad, reserved and upset Louis is all of a sudden—it’s only been a couple of hours since he’d left him in the kitchen after he’d made them both a cuppa. 

“Louis, has something happened?” he asks tentatively, bringing his hand up gently to cup the back of Louis’s head. He gives it a quick squeeze before pulling him back so they can look at one another properly. Louis’s eyes are shiny with unshed tears. 

Louis’s eyes drop down to his lap and Harry watches his Adam’s apple bob as he opens and closes his mouth. “I…” he starts, then closes his mouth again, then huffs, clearly frustrated. “I’m sorry.”

Harry frowns. “For what?”

“I don’t know,” Louis wobbles, shaking his head. “I’m just having one of those days where it really gets to me, that’s all. And I just… I needed you.”

“What gets to you?” Harry asks softly. He keeps his other hand moving slowly up and down Louis’s back. 

Louis doesn’t answer for a moment, then he leans back and carefully cups Harry’s face in his hands. 

“I can’t believe I get to have you,” he says wistfully, which isn’t really an answer. And then, like he can tell Harry is getting more confused by the second, he says, “I, um. I just logged back onto my online portal for my old company so I could download my payslip, right?” Harry nods. “And I just… I had a shitty email from my former boss and it’s made me feel like complete garbage, that’s all.”

“Your old company being your… O-For-Hire company?” Harry asks carefully. Louis nods. 

“Yeah. We used a, like, online portal thing where we could select the alphas we wanted, communicate with other guys in the industry in case we had any issues with an alpha, that kind of thing. And it’s how I communicated with our agency bosses and it’s how I submitted my notice.”

Harry nods, nervous all of a sudden. “You’ve not, like, been called in to do a shift or something, have you?”

“No.” Louis shakes his head and nibbles at his thumbnail. “I got, like, a shitty response to me handing in my notice that I hadn’t read yet because I hadn’t logged on and it’s just made me feel like fucking shit.”

“Why?” Harry asks. 

Louis lets out a frustrated sort-of sigh. “She basically just said that she would keep my name on the books because people who say they’re leaving because they got in a relationship often go back.” He balls his hands into fists. “And I just… I hate the idea of going back so much but it’s not…” He trails off and sinks into his chair, like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “I just could do with my boyfriend telling me it’s total bollocks.”

“It is total bollocks,” Harry snaps back, then pulls Louis closer, holding him tightly, possessively. “Even if we broke up tomorrow I wouldn’t let you go back there, for fuck’s sake.”

Louis squeaks and flicks him on the chin. “ _Harry._ Wrong fucking answer.”

Harry pouts. “What?”

“Tell me we aren’t breaking up and you’re my alpha and I’m going to be a fucking doctor and _that’s why_ I don’t have to go back there,” Louis says shrilly. “God, you’re so annoying.”

“Of course that’s all true,” Harry rushes out, frowning. Louis is trembling in his arms and he _hates_ this. “But I was just saying that even if we did break…”

_“Harry Edward Styles.”_

“I’m your alpha and I’ll never make you go back there, never ever,” Harry soothes, pulling Louis even tighter, nosing at his chest through his T-shirt. “You quit for the right reasons and you’re doing so fucking well, that stupid woman doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.”

“There, that’s more like it,” Louis huffs firmly. “God, I dunno why it made me feel like such a sack of shit. Realistically I know all this.” He touches Harry’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re my alpha.”

Those three little words are on the tip of Harry’s tongue, but he doesn’t say them. It’s not right to say them for the first time when Louis is this upset. “I’m glad you’re my omega,” he settles on, moving in to kiss him softly, closed-mouth but firm and lingering. “I’m so lucky to have you and I’m sorry if I’m not always the best at saying it.”

“Nah, I think I’m just needy,” Louis admits, smiling sadly. “I feel weird about it sometimes, that’s all. I don’t think I realised how badly it was affecting me and my mental health.”

Harry bites his lip. He can smell how upset Louis is and the fact he’s so sad is even starting to affect Harry’s alpha. He wants to bundle Louis into his arms and never let go. “You don’t, like, actually worry you’ll have to go back to it, do you?”

Louis pauses for a second but eventually shakes his head. “Not especially. I know that even if we were to break up, which isn’t allowed to happen, by the way, I hope I’d be well into my doctorate by then and like, independently funded to do it so I wouldn’t have to get a job on the side.”

Harry nods. “We aren’t breaking up,” he agrees. “I forbid it.”

“Oh, you forbid it?” Louis bursts out laughing and shakes his head. “Good to know. I’m forbidden from breaking up with my soulmate.”

“Damn straight,” Harry nods, kissing his temple. “And look, if you’re actually worried about going back there, I can write her a strongly worded email if you’d like. From your alpha who swears to make sure you never go back there.”

“Jesus Christ, Harry,” Louis groans. “Why don’t you just piss on me instead?”

“I’m sorry?” Harry splutters. “What on earth…”

“You’re a territorial bastard.” Louis nuzzles into his neck. “But I kinda like it. I never thought I would like an alpha who was willing to be all, like, protective and defensive over me, but I kinda like it when it comes from you.”

Something warm and gooey stirs in Harry’s belly and he pulls Louis even closer. “Get used to it,” he hums. “Do you want to go out tonight, let your hair down? You’re working yourself super hard with all these applications., you know.”

“And go where?” Louis huffs, eyeing him suspiciously. “Because I was just thinking earlier I could absolutely murder a Nando’s, but I’m not exactly sure if I can just walk into a Nando’s with Harry Styles on my arm, can I?”

“Who says?” Harry leans back so he can slide his phone out of his pocket. “Leave it with me.”

Two hours later they're sat in a restaurant just outside Hampstead, with half the area cordoned off for their privacy and a waiter all to themselves. Harry truly has no idea how Niall does it, but one call to him and they’d had this all set up for them in barely any time at all, and now they’re enjoying a pitcher of sangria and sharing a plate of halloumi sticks in bloody Nando’s. 

“Well, isn't this a flex?” Louis hums, hooking their ankles together under the table. “Showing off to me with Nando’s. Look at you. I feel like you’ve not been in a Nando’s for ages.”

“Not for years,” Harry admits. “Though sometimes Niall gets his lunches from here as takeaway. I’ll pick at a salad from here on occasion.”

Louis reaches forward and smears some chilli jam on his cheek, which makes Harry squeal in a _very_ manly way and nearly falls off his chair as he tries to wriggle away. 

“What the _fuck?”_

 _“That,_ my love, is for saying you order a _salad_ at Nando’s,” Louis says gleefully. “A fucking salad. I should break up with you just for that, you know.”

Harry dabs at his face with a napkin, then scrunches it into a ball and throws it at Louis, aimed just right so it bounces off his forehead. He spares a quick glance at the waiter, who doesn’t look particularly thrilled, but when Louis is giggling into the back of his hand like that, his eyes crinkled shut and his whole body moving because of how hard he’s laughing, for the first time ever he can’t really bring himself to care. 

The smile on Louis’s face is worth every single penny tonight cost him and if he’s honest, he can’t remember the last evening out he’s had where he’s laughed this hard or enjoyed himself so much, even though he’s just with Louis again. 

He’s getting closer and closer to saying those three little words and any day now he’s going to tell him. 

Soon. 

_Soon._

*

Another day, another photoshoot, and it’s another photoshoot that Louis is tagging along to because he claims he’ll just _die_ if he can’t tag along. 

“Don’t you get bored?” Harry has to ask as he parks up. “And cold in those trailers?”

“Never gonna be bored watching you be all pretty for a living,” Louis coos sarcastically, reaching over the threshold to pinch Harry’s cheek. “Besides, I have a bag full of your hoodies and half a series of _Bridgerton_ to finish, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Harry blinks at him. “And you can’t do that at home?”

Louis narrows his eyes. “It’s starting to sound like you don’t want me here, Styles.”

“Of course I want you here,” Harry scoffs. “I want you with me all the time. I just don’t want you to feel obligated to follow me to work.”

“Well, I don’t have anything else to do,” Louis says dryly. “So I’m here whether you like it or not.”

Harry draws him in for a kiss. “Oh, I like it, baby. I like that you can’t get enough of being around me.”

“That, and I get a free buffet lunch,” Louis says, smiling against his lips. “Come on, stud, move along. I’m pretty sure you’re already late.”

They are already _very_ late, so by the time they’re shepherded into Harry’s trailer by a couple of the shoot assistants, Harry barely has time to give Louis a parting kiss before he’s being rushed into hair and makeup. 

“I’ll see you at lunchtime?” Louis calls as Harry scuttles away at speed with a fleeting wave, and Harry yells something unintelligible back as he bolts through the set and towards where he needs to be. 

The shoot is a busy one and there’s about eleven other models that he’ll be working with today. He recognises a couple of them from other shoots they’ve done together and a few more he knows of through their previous work. It should make for a fairly painless day, which is something.

The worst thing about the group is that Oliver _fucking_ Rowe is there too, but this time they don’t even acknowledge one another. They sit on opposite ends of the room as the hair and makeup artists make their way through the group and pretend the other isn’t there, which is just how Harry likes it. 

They’re lucky it’s summer because it’s an underwear shoot today, which is good because the sun is high in the sky and the field they're in is beautiful. Harry isn’t really sure why ten people would be frolicking together in a field in just their underwear, but he’s being paid a six-figure paycheque for the campaign so he supposes he shouldn’t question it too much. 

They start off by taking their solo shots, one at a time, so there’s a fair bit of hanging around for the morning. Harry ends up chatting to a couple of the other models—another alpha named Alex and an omega who happens to be his fiancée, a gorgeous girl named Perrie—before he’s shepherded out onto the field. 

He’s probably the biggest name on the shoot so it’s not surprising to him that they take the most solo pictures of him, so his time with James, the shoot director, and Ben, who’s a photographer he’s worked with countless times on countless campaigns by now, and they take over a hundred snaps of him. By the end of it, he feels absolutely disgusting and sweaty and gross, but if the reaction from the pair is anything to go on, that thankfully doesn’t translate to the pictures. They’re both _lapping_ him up. 

He spies Oliver standing with his arms crossed looking thoroughly uninterested, and he chuckles to himself internally. This isn’t one of his favourite campaigns he’s ever done, not by a long shot, but that blow has definitely been softened by the fact that Oliver still isn’t the lead like he clearly thinks he is. 

Once those individual shots are all done, they take a quick break for a drink and a makeup touch-up, then they’re back in for the group shots. By this point. The midday sun is bordering on scorching, so there’s a team standing close by to blot them and wipe them down if needed, and also with bottles of water. 

They’d made the executive decision to try and work through lunch so they can get out of here sooner and because the light now is exactly what Ben wants for the group pictures. Harry scoffs down a sausage roll and then asks one of the runners to bring some of the food to his omega in trailer 2, because Louis will be isolated for the whole day without any food otherwise. 

When they get back out into the field for the group shots, Ben gets them all to press together in a way that’s much too close to be comfortable, especially in this temperature, but it probably makes a great photo. 

“Harry, Charlie, can you squish closer together?” Ben asks, gesturing his hands together like he really does want them as close as possible. “Actually, Harry, put your arm across his back, really close together. Lovely.”

Harry isn't the biggest fan of being pressed this close to a random omega but he’ll do it for the shoot. This Charlie lad rests his hand on Harry’s stomach and just holds it there for a few snaps, which makes Harry feel a bit uneasy but he supposes it’s only for a few moments. He really doesn’t want to go back to his trailer reeking of random omega. 

Except it isn’t just a few minutes. Harry ends up sat there in this position for nearly half an hour as the photographer focuses in on close up shots, snapping individual details like the way hands rest on chests or arms drape over shoulders. He gets what he’s doing, but he’s really not happy about it. 

“Right, um.” Ben gestures for a couple of the betas to pair together and then a smile slowly creeps up his face. “Harry. I have an idea for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry straightens up so Charlie’s hand falls off of him. “What’s that?”

“Why don’t you kiss Charlie?” Ben says, his smile impish and excited. 

What. 

This wasn’t in the brief. 

“But…” Harry shakes his head. “I don’t know how appropriate that’ll be for the campaign, Ben. I thought it was about looking good in underwear without it being a sexual thing.”

“A quick peck on the lips is hardly sexual,” Ben scoffs. “Come on, Harry, it would be a really cool stand out picture from today.”

Charlie smiles at him and touches his arm. “I mean, I’m game if you are.”

“Come on, Styles,” Oliver sneers from the other side of the group. “Are you a man or a mouse? Just fucking kiss him.”

Harry fights the urge to growl and rip his hand away from the other omega. It’s just not _fair._ “Can’t another one of the alphas do it?”

“Harry, come on,” Ben tries to reason. “We’ll be here all day otherwise. Just one kiss, come on.”

His heart is thumping in his ears as he reluctantly steps forward into Charlie’s space. His alpha is screeching at him that he’s _wrong_ , that this isn’t his omega, it’s just so _wrong..._

Harry has never hated a kiss more in his life. It’s no more than three seconds long but Charlie’s lips are wet and he grips at Harry’s hips like he wants to deepen it. But Harry gingerly steps away and breaks the kiss after only a few seconds because it feels _wrong._ Ha has no business kissing anybody but Louis and if anything, this has just brought that back home ten-fold. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling himself burn red. There’s about 25 sets of eyes on him from all angles right now and he _hates_ this. “I, um, did you get the shot, Ben?”

Ben shoots him a thumbs up from behind the camera, looking positively _thrilled._ “Looks great,” he says enthusiastically. “Do you two wanna do another one so we’ve got some variety?”

Charlie grins and takes another step into Harry’s space but Harry immediately takes a step backwards and away instead. “If you’re happy, I’m happy,” he says loudly, purposely looking anywhere but at Charlie. “May as well keep the momentum going and shoot something else, yeah?”

He doesn’t miss the way Charlie’s face falls, just enough for him to notice, but he really can’t feel guilty about it because he’s absolutely not doing it again. He’s got half a mind to email Ben right after and ask him to delete the photo so it never gets used because the idea of a billboard or a storefront holding a picture of him kissing someone other than Louis makes him feel queasy. 

Oh, _god._ Louis will probably kill him for this. 

The rest of the afternoon passes in a total blur. Harry really doesn’t think he’s going to end up looking great in _any_ of the photos taken of him after the kiss because he feels a bit dazed by the whole thing. He’s been practicing the conversation he’s going to have with Louis to explain it in his head for at least two hours at this point. 

When they finally announce it’s a wrap, Harry is quick to shake everyone’s hand and thank them for today, but he has no plans to hang about. He wants to get back to his trailer, pull his own omega into his arms and bury his nose into his scent glands so he doesn’t have to smell the foreign smell of another omega on him any longer. 

“You can all keep the underwear from today,” calls James, the shoot director, which makes everyone laugh. Harry stops so he can laugh along with everyone politely, but then once people start milling around again he makes a beeline for the door. 

But before he can leave, he feels a little hand wrap around his wrist and his heart sinks when he realises who it is. 

“So, like, that was pretty raunchy back there,” Charlie nods, and _no._ This _cannot_ be happening. “I just wondered, like, if you felt the chemistry like I did?”

Harry blinks at him and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Charlie,” he says, because he genuinely is. He’s been in this position more times than he can count at this point, where something mildly intimate happens with an omega and suddenly they think he’s going to take them home. “My omega is waiting for me back in my trailer. I need to go and see him.”

The way Charlie’s face falls is almost comical. “O- _oh,”_ he says, then takes a step back like he’s been burned. “You have an omega. Right, right. Of course you do.”

Harry sighs and spins on his heel, shouting a weak goodbye to him over his shoulder. It’s a shitty situation their director put them in but Harry can’t dwell on it just now, nor can he try and over-explain that he felt nothing to an omega he barely knows. His own alpha is more than a little bit angry with him for it all and it’s practically begging him to get back to his own omega, so he hurries through the set and back to his favourite person. 

He steps inside his trailer, turns to close the door behind him, then gets a face full of hoodie when he turns back around, the zip colliding hard with his chin. “ _Ow,_ Jesus, what the _fuck?”_

“Hello, darling,” Louis greets, but it’s instantly clear he isn’t calling Harry a pet name to be sweet. In fact, he looks ready to _murder_ Harry. “Did you have a good shoot? Get some _lovely_ photos?”

“Uh,” is Harry’s clear, well-thought out response, and Louis scoffs a laugh. 

“Cat got your tongue, _sweetheart?”_ He picks up another hoodie from the sofa and chucks it in Harry’s direction, but this time Harry side-steps it. “Or did you just forget to take it out of that other omega’s mouth?”

“What the hell?” Harry says dumbly, cheeks heating up. “I… I didn’t realise you saw that.”

“Of course I saw that,” Louis snaps. “Of _course_ I did, because nothing fucking goes right for me ever that _of course_ when I get the most incredible piece of news, I go to find my boyfriend and he’s making out with someone else?”

“It was barely a peck,” Harry protests. “And it was for one photo and I didn’t even want to…”

Louis cuts him off with a bark of dangerous, humourless laugh. “Why is it that I have to do everything _you_ want of me but you get away with doing whatever you damn well please?” he snarls. Harry can’t stand this so takes a step forward into his space, arms open, but Louis immediately takes two steps back so he’s in the doorway of the bathroom, boxed in so Harry can’t reach him. “ _No._ Don’t fucking think you can cuddle your way out of this, you prick.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry says desperately, shaking his head from side to side. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You haven’t… you haven’t done anything?” Louis shrills. “I watched you kiss another omega for the cameras, asshole. And if you even try and deny it…”

“Are you going to let me explain?” Harry asks, running a hand through his hair frantically. He hasn’t got an excuse and he can’t deny it. Louis _is_ right and _yes_ , he’d probably be pissed if the shoe was on the other foot. He just wishes Louis would let him explain, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to. 

“This better be a fucking _exceptional_ explanation,” Louis says, voice tight and dangerous. “It wasn’t exactly subtle, was it? Right in the middle of a busy set? To take photos that will be smeared all over the pages of fucking Vogue right after you’ve introduced me to all your friends and colleagues around here?”

“Baby, it was just for the shot,” Harry pleads, feeling desperate already. Louis smells a mix of angry and hurt and the look on his face is one of pure thunder. “Of course it wasn’t anything more than that. One photo and I hated every second of doing it, that’s all.”

“Harry, I don’t give a shit if they asked you to drop to your knees and suck him off for a million pounds,” Louis huffs. “I just… I just thought that out of respect for me, you might have said no.”

“I tried to say no,” Harry starts, but he knows it’s a weak argument. He doesn’t even really know why he’s trying so hard to justify this when he hated every second. “I really did, but they said…”

“You didn’t try very hard, did you?” Louis spits. Then he sags against the doorframe, eyes dropping closed. “Fuck. I’m so angry at you and it’s ruined such a good moment for me. Fuck you.”

Harry’s brows furrow. “What moment?”

“Oh, _now_ you care,” Louis scoffs. 

“Don’t do this, Louis, you know I care more than anything.”

“Do I?” Louis glares at him for a few long seconds, then he sighs. “I got a PhD offer. For King’s College.”

Harry gasps. “Babe, oh my god, that’s incredible. King’s College! Yes, oh my god, congratulations!” He beams at him, fingers itching to reach out, but he refrains, unsure if he’s allowed. “I’m so bloody proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” Louis croaks awkwardly, running a hand through his fringe. “It’s not my first choice, as you know, but it’s in London and it’s an amazing uni anyway, so I think I’ll accept.”

Harry really wants to kiss the worry and the hurt out of his voice. “We should celebrate,” he says instead. “Go for a lovely meal and drinks or something.”

“Something,” Louis echoes weakly. “Just the two of us, or will your little co-star be invited too?”

“ _Louis_.” The smile slides off his face and he groans, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. He’s getting annoyed now. “Come on, baby. This is so exciting and you’re making it about something it’s not.”

“Oh, am I?” Louis drawls. “Or did you fuck up and now you’re trying to wine and dine your way out of it?”

“Of course I’m not,” Harry scoffs. “I’m trying to take my boyfriend out for a good time to celebrate his amazing news because he’s brilliant and he deserves it.” He puts his hands on his hips. “Although right now, he’s being a fucking brat so maybe I shouldn’t bother.”

“Don’t fucking bother then,” Louis hisses, wrapping his arms around himself protectively. “Go out with him, kiss him all you want, see if I care.”

“Louis,” Harry says, voice low. “Stop this. It was for a job.”

“Ah, I see,” Louis says airily, “That makes it perfectly acceptable, does it? Meanwhile, when I needed my job to, like, actually be able to afford food and stuff, I’m the bad boyfriend?”

“You were never a bad boyfriend,” Harry shouts. “Fuck, Louis, and that’s totally different and you know it.”

“Is it?” Louis spits. “So let me get this straight, Harry Styles. You can kiss another omega in a public setting for a very public photoshoot and call it art and a job and whatever you like, even though it’ll piss me off, but the whole world can applaud you for it. But when I do the same job I’ve been doing for seven years with another alpha, I have to stop it completely and utterly because it makes _you_ upset. Have I got that right?”

“I…” Harry blinks at him stupidly. He really doesn’t know what to say without sounding like a fucking prick. He goes with the safest option. “I should have said no to the kiss.”

“Damn fucking right you should.”

“But…” Harry can’t stop himself. “I understand why you’re upset, baby, I really do. I’d be gutted if I saw you kissing anyone else, I can’t lie. But my job and your job aren’t the same and we both know it.”

“Yeah, I know our jobs aren’t the same,” Louis says with a sigh, and he just sounds defeated at this point. “The difference is yours matters and mine didn’t.”

“Louis, that’s not true…”

Louis cuts him off with a sound that’s near enough a growl. “Don’t bullshit me, Harry. God, I love you but you’re thick as fucking pig shit sometimes.”

Harry’s stomach feels like it’s dropped out of his arse. _What did he just say?_

“What… what did you just say?”

“I called you stupid, _stupid_.”

“No, before that,” Harry says, and this time he doesn’t stop himself from stepping closer to Louis. “You love me?”

He can’t _believe_ Louis beat him to it, and in the middle of a fucking _argument_ as well. Not that he can blame him because he’s nearly blurted it out so many times in situations just like this one, but he can’t believe Louis said it first. 

The world feels like it’s stopped turning, that everything around them is paused in this moment. 

_Louis loves him._

Louis balks at him. It’s clear he’s just as surprised as Harry. “I… shut up.”

“I love you too,” Harry rushes out, unable to stop the stupid dopey smile from taking over his whole face. “Fuck, Louis, you’re my entire world.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Louis shrieks, shaking his head. “No, no, _no._ This isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“Louis, fucking…” Harry steps into his space, taking the stroppy omega’s face in his hands. “Look at me. Look _at me.”_

Louis glares at him, his eyes shiny with tears. “What?”

“I love you too and I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you today, or any day for that matter, and I’m so unbelievably proud of you for getting on your PhD,” Harry says gently, carefully. “And I’m sorry that it took a row for us to say that we love each other because you deserve more than this… more than me kissing someone else for you to blurt it out.”

“Yeah, I do,” Louis whimpers, reaching up so he can slap Harry on the cheek. Then he reaches forward and slams their mouth together. 

Harry _whines_ because that _hurt._ Their teeth clash against each other harshly and Louis’s hands fist at the back of his neck as they scrabble closer, needy and desperate, as the kiss deepens. The angle is awkward—hell, everything about this is awkward and absolutely _not_ even remotely how he’d planned his declaration of love for Louis to go, so he slows down the kiss so he can break it. 

“Baby,” he pants, resting their foreheads together. He winds his free arm low around Louis’s waist and draws him in closer, so there’s barely an inch of space between them. “Baby, look at me.”

“Well, where else am I gonna be looking, you selfish alpha lump?” Louis tuts at him, jabbing a sharp fingernail at Harry’s chest and getting him right in the nipple. “Jesus Christ, you’re _literally_ unbearable, I can’t believe I love you so fucking much…”

“Baby, if you don’t stop I'm going to start kissing you again to shut you up and if I start, I won’t be able to stop,” Harry warns him. 

“You can kiss me and not stop all you want if you do one thing for me,” Louis murmurs against his lips. Harry rushes to nod. “You can march right over to that photographer of yours and tell him to delete that picture of you and that slut.” 

Harry kisses him, slow and deep, because he’s so in love with this beautiful, _beautiful_ boy that he’d do quite literally anything for him. “I’d let them use that photo over my dead body,” he promises him, and he feels even worse about it all when he feels Louis sink into his hold, letting out an audible sigh of relief. “Here, can you wait here for me? I’m going to get changed and then I’ll go and talk to the team and then we’ll go home and get ready to go out, stay in, whatever you want.”

Louis smiles at him, his little hand coming up to cup Harry’s face. “Stay in,” he tells him. “I just… I just want you tonight. Just us, if that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” Harry presses one quick, last kiss to Louis’s lips before he reluctantly pulls back. “Argh, okay. Give me two minutes, sweetheart, two minutes.”

Louis awkwardly shuffles back over to the table where his laptop and paperwork are sprawled, closing his computer and unplugging it. “So, like. I’ll pack up and wait here?”

“Two minutes,” Harry promises, shoving his jumper over his head. “And then I’ll drive us home.” He hesitates, hand on the door handle to the trailer. “Unless… you don’t want to be around me right now so I could drop you at your sister’s and we can, like, talk about this tomorrow if you…”

“Harry, I told you I loved you five minutes ago,” Louis huffs. “If you don’t take me back to our place and eat me out on those stupid silk bedsheets on your stupid fucking Californian king bed then it’s actually over.”

Harry smiles because despite it all, despite this awful mess where he’s not sure if they’re good or not, he knows that Louis means every word and he’s so, so lucky to have him. “I love you so much,” he tells him, because now he’s started he can’t stop. “I’ll be back.”

He moves quickly through the set, greeting people politely as he walks past them but not stopping to chat like he usually would. He finds James and Ben in the front unit, both pouring over Ben’s laptop and flicking through some of the photos from today, which is perfect. 

“Er, hi,” he says as he raps his knuckles against the door, but he doesn’t wait for permission before stepping into the room. “Thanks for today, I think it was really successful.”

Both James and Ben grin at him and murmur greetings back, but then their expressions drop to confusion in seconds. 

“Mate, what happened to your chin there?” James asks, eyes wide. “It looks painful.”

Harry’s hand flies up. “Oh, it’s…” _Just a dent in your chin from where my omega threw a hoodie at me for kissing somebody else._ “I just… um, Louis is in my trailer and he got some good news.”

“So he bit you?” James asks incredulously. 

Harry shrugs. “Kind of? Anyway, he’s in the trailer and we’ve just had a quick chat and we don’t want that photo of me kissing Charlie out there. It’s not fair to do that when we’re, like, close to going public.”

Ben shrugs. “Yeah, okay. It’s a great shot though, do you want to see it?”

 _Absolutely not_. “Nah, if we’re not using it you can just delete it,” he says. “You can use the ones of Alex and Perrie instead. They’ve got, like, actual chemistry and they'll be a better fit for a shot like that.” Ben shrugs, looking a little disappointed, but at the end of the day Harry knows that what he says, goes. “Awesome. When can we expect to see the final selection?”

“By next Friday, hopefully,” Ben says. “I’m sending them over to Edward’s PA tomorrow once I’m done with editing.”

“Awesome,” Harry says again. “Remember, the one of me and Charlie isn’t even to be sent as a consideration, alright?”

Ben and James both nod. “Yeah, understood,” James says. “Now go back to your omega, you wild animal, you.”

Harry grins and bids them both a goodbye, then pelts back to his trailer. 

Louis is all ready to go. The trailer is packed up with both of their stuff and there are no hoodies left out that could be thrown in Harry’s direction, which is a win. He’s waiting for Harry on the couch, phone in hand while he texts away frantically. 

Harry clears his throat. “Ready to go?”

Louis nods and silently stands to join him, handing him one of the bags before moving out the trailer and stalking towards the car without another word. 

God, Harry feels like shit about this whole thing but all he can think about as he watches him walk is _fuck,_ he loves him so much and he’s going to tell him that every hour of every day for the rest of their lives. 

The air is tense and awkward between them in a way it hasn’t ever been before, and they barely speak a word to one another as they drive home. It’s about half an hour on a good day but they hit the dregs of rush hour traffic, which means it takes even longer. 

Louis curls up on the passenger seat, legs tucked under his bum as he always does when they’re on a long drive and he’s sleepy, but Harry doesn’t think he’s all that sleepy right now. He just stares out the window and doesn’t offer up any conversation, so Harry doesn’t either, just focuses on the low music coming from the radio. A car doesn’t feel like the right place to talk it over properly, that’s for sure. 

They don’t speak when Harry parks up the car and they move through into the flat. Louis opens the door first and marches through, stomping down the hallway, and Harry scuttles after like a scolded puppy. 

He supposes that’s kind of what he is right now. 

“Do you want a beer?”

Louis spins around, his eyes wild. “No, Harry, I do not want a fucking beer. I want us to have the conversation we should have had weeks ago.”

A little dumbfounded but not entirely not expecting it, Harry nods and gestures towards the sofa. “Okay. Yeah, let’s talk.”

The second he settles down on the sofa in his usual spot, Louis moves to straddle him so they’re pressed close together but far enough apart that Harry can tell how pissed off and upset Louis is. But as has always been the case between the two of them, they need to be close, their bodies unable to not touch when they’re in close proximity to one another. 

Which makes arguing just that little bit harder sometimes, but hey, Harry’s in love and he’s going to keep Louis in his arms whether they’re fighting or not. 

Louis licks his lips and shuffles back on his haunches so he’s perching on Harry’s thighs. 

“Can I speak first?”

“Yeah, baby,” Harry nods. His hands come to rest on the small of Louis’s back. “You tell me what you need from me and I’ll do it.”

“No,” Louis says hotly, shaking his head almost wildly. “Something I stipulated from the very beginning was that I want us to be equals, right? And while that means neither of us go kissing or touching other people…” He fixes Harry with a sharp look, “It also means that I don’t just tell you what to do and vice versa. We’re two grown up fucking adults in a healthy fucking serious relationship and we’re going to fucking act like it, alright?”

“Yes,” Harry agrees. “Absolutely.”

Louis nods, just once, and then cups Harry’s face in his hands. “Listen to me then, because I’m only saying this once and once only. Neither of us kiss, make out with, have sex with, any of that with anyone that isn’t one of us, yes? As a flat rule, we don’t do it. That’s a deal breaker for me at this point.”

“Motion understood, verified and carried,” Harry says, then lets out a long sigh. “Never again, I promise you. Not even for a role, I don’t care. It’s not happening, I promise you now.”

“Well, if it’s a film role we can talk about it,” Louis says thoughtfully, like he hadn’t considered this to be an eventuality yet. “But modelling work and for, like, any music videos or whatever, it’s a hard and fast no.”

“Yes.” Harry nods vigorously. “Agreed.” He nudges just a teeniest bit closer to Louis, as close as he dares right now. “I hated that today. I hated doing it, I hated looking at the picture of me and him afterwards and most of all, I hated how much it upset you. I didn’t think and I gave into peer pressure and pressure from a photographer I don’t even like, and I wasn’t thinking. And I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to because it was categorically out of line.” 

“You don’t have to spend the rest of your life making it up to me,” Louis mumbles, sliding his hand down and resting it over Harry’s heart, using his thumb to draw a cross over it gently. “You’re a bloody people-pleasing idiot dickhead, but you’re _my_ people-pleasing idiot dickhead. So I believe you and I forgive you.” A pause. “You could spend _tonight_ making it up to me if you felt like it.”

“Whatever you need from me, baby,” Harry promises, nudging them just the teeniest bit closer, so their crotches are just about lined up. “And for what it’s worth, I am so fucking proud of you for getting your offer. That’s the best thing that could have come out of today and I’m so fucking sorry I overshadowed it by being a stupid prick.”

“You are a stupid prick,” Louis agrees. “But I’m very deeply in love with you, in case you couldn’t tell that already.”

Harry thinks he might have damaged a muscle in his face with how wide his grin spreads. He’s pretty sure that’s a sentiment he’ll never, ever get tired of hearing. 

“I love you so much,” he tells Louis. _Closer._ “More than anything in this whole world. And being able to tell you that makes me the happiest sod in the world, I swear.”

Louis giggles and it’s Harry’s favourite sound in the whole world. “Have you been holding that info back from me for long, stud?”

“Like… a month, maybe a month and a half?” Harry says sheepishly. Louis’s mouth drops open. “I, um, well. Liam asked me if I was in love with you at your sister’s party and I couldn’t deny it. I loved you then and I love you even more now.”

“I’ve already agreed to let you shag me later,” Louis says with a breathy laugh. “You don’t need to butter me up.”

“It’s the truth,” Harry promises, cradling Louis’s neck in his hand, nudging them so close that their foreheads are resting together. “And I’m not going to shag you later, my darling. I’m going to _make love_ to you later.”

“You are such a great big nerd,” Louis tells him with a groan. “Absolutely awful. No, I’m serious, I can’t believe I’ve started a relationship with an alpha with one of the biggest knots I’ve ever taken and all he ever bangs on about is _making love_ to me.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Can I make another rule?” Louis nods. “That we don’t talk about any of your past conquests when your arse is this close to my dick?”

“In all fairness, stud, I didn’t mention any other conquests,” Louis tells him dryly. “I mentioned I’ve had a knot that isn’t yours, but nothing more. Are you asking us to be one of those couples that pretends the other doesn’t have a past?”

“I don’t have a past,” Harry shrugs. “You’re my first relationship—like non-PR relationship—ever. Everything else has just been casual.”

“I don’t have a past,” Louis repeats in a poor imitation of Harry’s accent “You’re my first relationship—like non-PR relationship—ever. Everything else has just been _work.”_

“Touché,” Harry says with a sigh. His eyes drop closed and he takes a second just to sort his thoughts out, because the last thing he wants to say is the wrong thing. “Look, I’m just… I’m sorry. I don’t know how to not be a possessive knothead, it seems.”

“Look,” Louis says, cupping Harry’s cheeks with his little hands and looking him dead in the eye. “I have a past and you have a past. Your past is fake and my past isn’t real. They’re irrelevant in two different ways, baby. Mine doesn’t mean anything because I never saw those men again anyway, and yours doesn’t mean anything because it was all for show. Does this make sense?”

“God, you’re so much better at rationalising it than I am.” Harry groans and lets his head fall back against the top of the sofa dramatically, but Louis pulls it back upright so they’re looking at each other again. “Okay, fine. I’m a knothead and I think I have jealousy issues when it comes to you, I think that much is clear.”

“Harry, I’m gonna be constantly jealous when it comes to you.” Louis kisses him lightly on the lips, the first time they’ve kissed since they were in the trailer. “You’re famous, for fuck’s sake, and gorgeous and wonderful and so many people want you…”

Harry kisses him back fiercely, trying to kiss those thoughts out of Louis’s head. “It’s only you,” he promises, pulling him as close as he can so they can kiss and kiss and kiss. “It’s only ever been you and it will only ever be you, Louis. I’m so in love with you.”

“Harry,” Louis moans, and his grip tightens in Harry’s hair as Harry kisses down his neck. “God, Harry, I love you so much.”

Nothing more needs to be said after that, not really. They’re in love and they’re here in each other’s arms, and that’s what they both need right now. No fancy celebrations or overpriced restaurants, though Harry fully intends to take Louis out later in the week to celebrate in style. 

But right now, all he wants is Louis. 

Harry scoops Louis up in his arms like he’s a bride and carries him to their bed and, as previously instructed, eats him out until he’s sobbing into their overpriced silk bed sheets. He takes his time to worship Louis’s body, kissing every inch of his skin, touching him, holding him, loving him. 

Once he’s coaxed a shaking orgasm out of him he flips him onto his back and crawls over him, ducking down to kiss him because he can’t help it. He’s so in love with this omega, _so_ in love his head feels like it’s spinning with it and his heart might explode out of his chest. He’s the happiest man on the entire planet right now without a shadow of a doubt. 

“I love you, Louis,” he whispers against his lips, and Louis lets out a shuddering breath, hands winding around Harry’s neck and nudging him closer so their foreheads are touching. Harry isn’t inside Louis yet but his hard dick is pressed against Louis’s cheeks, his legs wrapping around Harry’s thighs. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” Louis croaks back, kissing Harry again, and again, and again. He pushes Harry’s matted curls from his eyes and groans as Harry presses closer, teasing him, as slick gathers between their bodies. “So much. God, Harry, kiss me.”

Harry ducks back down and licks into his mouth. He could do this for the rest of his life and die a happy man. “Let me get inside you,” he murmurs, kissing Louis one final time before he pulls back and leans on his knees so he can take his cock in hand and guide it slowly inside Louis’s waiting hole. 

Louis gasps and scrunches his hands into the sheets as Harry pushes inside. His back arches off the bed once Harry bottoms out and he cries out Harry’s name like it’s the only word that matters. They move together like they’re the only two people in the world, hands everywhere, legs tangled, hearts warm and full. The world could be on fire outside their bedroom window, but Harry would barely notice. 

When they come, it’s within moments of each other. Louis tightens his hold on Harry’s shoulders and cries out, shooting his load between their bodies, and Harry speeds up his motions before his own orgasm hits him. He cradles Louis to his chest as he fills him up, then they kiss slowly and softly as they come down from their highs. 

“I love you,” Louis whispers like it’s a secret, clutching Harry’s face in his small, sweaty hands. Harry kisses his forehead, smiling against it. “I’ve loved you since the day you tried to show off with a fucking James Bond movie and then made me a truly diabolical pizza.”

Harry sticks out his tongue. “I thought you liked that pizza, you cheeky sod.”

“I liked _you,”_ Louis corrects. “I couldn’t exactly tell the alpha I wanted to shag that his pizza sauce tasted like pure salt, could I?”

“You could’ve,” Harry protests, brushing his fingers lightly up Louis’s warm, sweaty back. “I probably would have knocked together something that was better to try and impress you then and there.”

Louis smiles into the kiss he gives him. “You’re a cute little sod, you know that?”

“A cute little sod you’re in love with,” Harry murmurs, to which Louis makes a very excited squeak and cuddles him in closer. “And this cute little sod loves you very much indeed.”

They don’t get much talking done after that. 

They’ve got the rest of their lives to perfect a pizza sauce recipe, after all.

*

It isn’t perfect, because of course it isn’t. There are times when it gets to Louis a bit too much and he gets extremely clingy and self-conscious, needing soft touches and gentle reassurances that Harry isn’t going to leave him, he’s loved whole-heartedly and he absolutely won’t have to return to his past life. 

It’s not that he seems worried that their relationship is rocky or anything less than perfect, for that matter. It’s more that now he knows he’s due to start his doctorate in September, he’s got a lot of free time between now and then, and he’s an over-thinker. He hates feeling idle and he hates feeling like a kept omega, and he’s feeling a bit like both of those things at the moment. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get a job and contribute to the rent?” he mumbles into Harry’s shoulder one morning. He’d poked Harry awake after a particularly bad nightmare and they’re both still in bed, cuddled up and pressed close. “I dunno, I just feel like I’m a deadbeat at the moment.”

Harry shakes his head and kisses Louis softly. “I never want you to feel like a deadbeat, darling. You absolutely don’t need to get a job but if you feel it would make you feel better, like, within yourself then please do.”

“But then where am I going to find a job that keeps me flexible to, like, come to shoots with you or travel with you?” Louis sags a bit in his hold. “I dunno, maybe I should just, like, enjoy my time off because I’ll never have this again.”

“That’s also true,” Harry hums. “But equally you don’t have to do that with me if you think having a job is more important.” He shrugs. “Baby, I just want you to be happy.”

“I know that,” Louis mumbles. “God, I hate feeling insecure about this, I really do. I feel so stupid sometimes because I know you don’t care. I know this is totally a me thing. But here we are.”

“What if you worked for me?” Harry suggests. “I could ask Niall to construct a job role for you.”

“No, don’t do that,” Louis grumbles. He looks alarmed at the very suggestion. “Because you’d pay me too much to do fucking nothing and I don’t want that.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “Well, if you change your mind…”

“Can you just…” Louis wiggles out of his hold and he frowns for a second, but then he’s being straddled, their foreheads resting together, lips just centimetres apart. “Can you just let me show you how much I love and appreciate you?”

Harry nods dumbly and lets himself be kissed, but he doesn’t stop worrying about Louis for the rest of the day. He’s always worried about Louis, that much is a fact, but he’s just not sure how to fix it. He can tell Louis he doesn’t care until he’s blue in the face, but it doesn’t seem like that’s enough to make his insecurities fade away. It’s a big change and not one that's come easy to him, so all Harry can do in moments like this is just hold him and promise that everything is going to be okay. 

Just a few nights later they’re having sex, with Harry fucking into Louis from behind, rough and fast, leaving nail marks in his hips as he coaxes the most beautiful noises from the omega. 

“Baby, so tight,” he grunts. “Fuck _yeah_ , say my name.”

“Alpha,” Louis whines, clenching around him hotly. “Yeah, fuck me, right there…”

Harry delivers one swift, sharp slap to Louis’s right buttock. “Say my _name_ ,” he growls. “Say it.”

“Harry,” Louis sobs into the bedsheets. “Harry, Harry, ahhh…”

“That’s right,” Harry grunts, then slaps his left cheek before he leans forward and drapes himself across Louis’s back, fucking him even deeper, thrusts shorter and sharper. Louis whines and buries his face even deeper into the bedding, then cries out even louder when Harry nails his sweet spot straight on. 

“ _Harry.”_

“Yes,” Harry hisses, his thrusts getting even shorter and sloppier as he gets closer to climaxing. “Come on, baby, so close…”

He brings his hand back from where it’s pressed into the mattress so he can cover one of Louis’s, tangling their fingers together and biting at his shoulder. 

“Come on, baby.”

Louis comes. He comes hard and he goes completely lax in Harry’s hold, stuttering out Harry’s name over and over as he collapses into the sheets, barely keeping his arse raised on his shaky legs. 

Harry’s grip is firm on Louis’s hips as he drives into him sloppily until his orgasm finally hits him, and he spills into Louis with a grunt and a rough cry of his name. 

He carefully rides through the aftershocks and lets his grip loosen so he can slide out of Louis easily, then he falls back on his knees and makes quick work of scooping Louis up and manoeuvring him back with him so they’re both lying against the pillows, content as anything with his omega in his arms. 

Louis lets himself be manhandled up into Harry’s arms and he practically burrows into him, peppering him with kisses and pointedly not letting Harry move his head up when he tries to bring him in for a kiss. 

“Baby?” Harry murmurs the third time Louis uses his chin to move his fingers away. “Baby, what?”

Louis whines as Harry tries to slide down the bed and he pulls himself even closer to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against Harry’s chest, and his voice is so broken and squeaky that Harry immediately panics. 

“What the hell have you got to be sorry for?” he asks, now forcibly taking Louis’s chin between his fingers, eyes dancing over Louis’s face. He’s pink cheeked and sweaty, but he also looks worried, his gorgeous features pinched together like he’s _nervous._ Harry doesn’t like it. 

“I didn’t do what you asked,” Louis mumbles. 

Now Harry’s really fucking confused. “Baby, what the fuck are you on about?”

“You don’t like it when I call you _alpha_ during sex,” Louis says, eyes wide and sad. Harry’s mouth drops open. 

“I… I don’t?”

“I…” Louis frowns. “You asked me that during our first time having sex. Like, your rut time. And I’ve done so fucking well at not saying it since but today it just… slipped out, I’m so sorry.”

“I… don’t remember,” Harry breathes. “I didn’t know I was doing that. I didn’t know I’d even said that during my rut.”

Louis shrugs. “But you did it again today so you must mean it.”

“I guess?” Harry takes a moment to think about it. “I think I just didn’t want you to call me alpha during my rut because it was generic and I wasn’t anything special at the time, right?”

Louis shrugs again. “Yeah, which is fair enough. I never want you to feel like I’m not wholly yours, which is why I made sure not to say it.”

“Louis,” Harry whispers tenderly, leaning down and brushing their noses together. “I love you so much. You know that, don’t you?” Louis bites his lip and doesn’t answer. “Louis. You’re mine and you’re the only person I plan to have sex with for the rest of my life.”

“Same,” Louis says, his voice tight. “I just have these stupid worries that I get all tangled in my head sometimes and I can’t seem to shift them, and I know that you’ll tell me they’re dumb but I dunno. I just hate bringing them up, especially after sex.”

Harry rolls them over so he’s hovering over Louis, tangling their fingers together. His necklaces dangle down and nearly hit Louis on the nose, which makes them both giggle and it dispels some of the tension.

“I don’t care if you call me alpha in bed,” Harry says firmly. “As long as I’m the only alpha in your bed, which I know I am, then I don’t care.” He shrugs. “I mean, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like hearing you moan my name, if I’m being selfish but I guess it’s normal to call each other several things in bed.”

Louis snorts. “Problem solved. My worries are gone now I know my alpha is just a narcissist.”

“But I need to hear your worries,” Harry says with a chuckle, tightening his grip on both Louis’s hands. “Because if we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, I don’t want you to feel that your problems or worries aren’t worth bringing up because they absolutely are.” He smiles gently. “Plus I can smell them on you.”

“Stupid soulmate hormones,” Louis grumbles, but he too finally cracks a smile. “I know that, Harry, I do. I just… I feel like I’m a little more fucked up emotionally than a lot of other omegas and you still picked me.”

“Couldn’t have picked any other omega in this world but you,” Harry murmurs. “You’re it for me, simple as that. Please don’t feel like you need to be worried about anything as trivial as what we call each other in bed when I love you this much. I’m not worried that you’ll call me a different name or anything.”

“Of course,” Louis says. “I’m so lucky and I know this. You’re the best thing in my life.”

Harry ducks down to kiss him at that. “Same,” he promises. “I’ll never get tired of holding you like this and thinking about how lucky I am.”

“Sappy prick,” Louis murmurs, but his smile is worth everything. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry says, then ducks down and kisses him breathless, and suddenly there’s no more talking being done. 

Harry can’t help but feel guilty every time Louis comes to him with something like that. He knows that Louis has his own reasons and his own insecurities but he doesn’t like the idea that Louis is keeping things a secret and then letting it eat him up inside. Louis knows the majority of his secrets at this point, which is quite a significant thing, because something Harry has always prided himself on is his ability to keep things a secret. 

He’s very much a private person anyway, but over the years where he’s had plenty of stories written about him, some true and some completely untrue, and had more invasive questions asked to him than he can shake a stick at. 

He’s used to keeping a lot of things about himself private. Being thrust into the limelight at a young age taught him that even though it’s exciting to get to tell the world about yourself, it’s actually more exciting to keep things private, especially when you reach the level of fame Harry finds himself at now. 

Something that Harry wasn’t supposed to keep secret was his love life, which is why he’s never really had much of one. He’s had three fairly high profile relationships, all three of which were created for the sake of good PR, and with those came a lot of overly public appearances, pap walks and elaborate holidays together, which were then followed by public breakups. 

Now he has an actual relationship with someone who he’s keeping private from the world for more than one reason. Louis isn’t ready to go public yet anyway, so they spend a lot of time hidden away in their apartment or in friend’s houses rather than the big public outings, and he actually finds he much prefers it. 

It’s no secret that he’s the happiest he’s ever been, and he hopes that it’s mutual with Louis. 

Whenever younger Harry would ever wonder if he had a soulmate somewhere out there, he’d always envisioned being able to basically read their mind. If his omega was sad, he’d hold them until they weren’t anymore and let them give him some of the sadness to take on. 

If they were ever hurt or confused or scared, Harry always hoped that they’d be able to share those feelings, because they were two halves of one being, after all. He pictured them being perfectly in tune with one another, always knowing what the other one wanted or needed just by co-existing. 

That isn’t the case at all. 

Louis is one of the hardest people to read that Harry has ever come across. 

Some days he’s a total open book. He’s loud and boisterous and if he ever wants anything, like food or a cuddle or a shag, he’ll be the first to let Harry know. He talks a lot about himself and the things he’s interested in, so it can feel that you know a lot about him very quickly. 

But when it comes to actually _knowing_ Louis, that’s not been the easiest. Louis is a very proud man and doesn’t usually offer out his feelings unless he’s worried he’s upset Harry as well. He likes to keep his emotions close to his chest and only offer him out on his terms, and if Harry presses too much he just won’t offer anything out. 

He’s pretty in tune with Louis’s scent by now and can pick up fairly easily on whether he’s upset or nervous and even very happy, but there’s a lot about him he doesn’t yet know. 

But then again Louis isn’t very good in situations where he may come across as vulnerable, even when it comes to opening up to Harry. He’s getting better without a doubt—just last week they’d had a long, frank conversation about Louis’s biological dad leaving him when he was a baby—but he’s still reserved when it comes to a lot of things, particularly about his least favourite subject: the last few years of his life. 

Louis hasn’t _exactly_ been keeping that one specific part of his past a secret, but Harry still doesn’t know all that much about his past. There’s a reason for it, he’s certain, and he does have his suspicions, but he wants to hear it from Louis’s mouth properly. 

It happens one Sunday, when it’s storming outside and they couldn’t leave the flat even if they wanted to. They’re curled up on the sofa, sharing a bowl of popcorn and drinking beers, when Louis puts a hand on Harry’s thigh and nudges himself closer. 

“I feel like we need to have a conversation,” he says. “Because we’ve been together for a while now and I’m pretty sure I’m here to stay, so I think it’s time we talk about… you know. The fact that I used to be a prostitute.”

Harry would be lying if he said he was expecting this. 

“Uh,” he says eloquently. “Okay.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Is now not a good time?”

“No, it’s perfect.” Harry tucks Louis under his arm and kisses his forehead. “It just caught me off guard because, well, do you want me to be honest?” Louis nods. “I’ve initiated this conversation with you in my head a thousand times, but then I wanted you to be ready, so I never pressed.”

Louis nods again. “I think I probably would have answered you if you’d asked. But.” He links their hands together and brings Harry’s hand up to his mouth, brushing a kiss over his knuckles. “I’m glad you waited.”

Harry mirrors Louis, bringing their joint hands up to his mouth so he can kiss them. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Louis takes a deep breath and shuffles closer to Harry, resting his head on his chest. “So. You know I was raised by my mum and there were six of us?” Harry nods. “Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”

Taken aback by the bluntness, Harry frowns. “Jesus. Yeah, I mean I believe you.”

“Yeah,” Louis huffs. “So expensive. And we had my stepdad, of course, but when he split up with my mum I was seventeen and a bit shit at school and I didn’t think I was going to get into university. So I needed to find a way to make us some money.”

“You were seventeen,” Harry breathes out. God, he could _cry._ “Bloody hell, Lou _.”_

“No, I was nineteen when I started,” Louis corrects gently. “Don’t interrupt.”

“Sorry,” Harry says sheepishly. 

“I worked every part time job you can imagine,” Louis continues. “I worked in restaurants, in shops and stuff. I worked at Toys R Us for a bit but I got sacked from there for calling this alpha customer a cunt because he made a shitty comment about all the staff being omegas. Being a male, unbonded, rather flamboyant omega wasn’t a great thing for me to be back then.”

He scrubs his free hand over his face. “I really never thought I’d leave Doncaster, if I’m honest. But one night I was working the late shift in this pub I worked at, which I only really stayed at because it was mostly alphas that drank there and the tips were good. One night, a bloke offered me £150 on top of my normal tips for a blow job in the alleyway across the street. At first I was horrified and told him to fuck off, but then I went upstairs to a text from my mum asking if there was any way I could ask to have my wages brought forward because one of the twins had broken her school shoes.” He shrugs again. “I was desperate, so I went back and I said yes.”

He glances up at Harry carefully, who is biting his lip so painfully hard so he doesn’t say anything. “Harry, my darling. You have to understand. Even before all this, all your lovely fame and money and the gorgeous penthouse in London, you still grew up alright in your lovely farmhouse in your Cheshire village. I know you’re from a single parent family too but it isn’t the same as living in a two-bedroom house when there’s six of you.”

“You can’t…” His voice cracks. “You can’t know what it’s like to be so poor that you’re eating dry toast for dinner so your younger siblings can eat a pathetic amount of chicken and the baked beans you were able to get in the reduced section of Tesco, and they don’t have to be the ones going to bed hungry. And to be quite honest I wouldn’t wise it on my worst enemy.”

“You were so young,” Harry croaks sadly. He’s already got Louis in his arms but he truly doesn’t feel like he’s able to hold him close enough. “You were just a kid and you had so much responsibility. It isn’t fair.”

“Nothing about my situation was fair,” Louis mumbles. “My biological father fucked off when I was born and left my mum with no child support. Mark was the best stepfather he could be but he was a landscaper, so he couldn’t work every day, had to wait for where the work was. Mum was a midwife and often worked nights, but her salary was crap given what she did.” He shrugs again. “I literally had no choice, Harry.”

“I believe you,” Harry mutters. “God, I hate it though.”

“I know you do.” Louis peppers a few kisses into the back of Harry’s hand again. “But yeah. To continue, I lost my job pretty quickly at the pub after that. After they found out about the… you know, the _whoring_.”

“I hate it when you call it that.”

“Gotta call a spade a spade,” Louis says with a sigh. “Anyway, I lost my job at the pub but it was kind of good, I guess you could say, because I didn’t have to lie to Mum or Liam and Zayn. I was still working five nights a week.” Another shrug. “I definitely didn’t go about it in the best way at the beginning. I wasn’t even doing it for ruts back then, just whatever alpha wanted me.” 

“Its one redeeming feature was that the taxman wasn’t exactly looking out for me and my cash transactions, so I was able to save well.” Harry can feel him sinking even further and further into him, like just having the conversation is exhausting. “I was making more money than ever before and I was actually able to buy extras, like cinema tickets and stuff. I could even give them presents on their birthdays.”

Harry’s heart breaks. _Presents on their birthdays._

“It was humiliating,” Louis whimpers. “I was tired all the time and walked with a constant limp and I was always bruised and had marks on my skin. People weren’t, like, cruel, but they definitely don’t treat a prostitute like someone they want to have sex with. There was just a lot of icky stuff that came with it that I couldn’t stop from happening, but when they’d hand me a wad of notes at the end of the night, it felt worth it.”

“I honestly don’t know what day was worse: the day Liam found out or the day my mum found out,” Louis carries on sadly. “Liam found out after someone he knew from work suggested me to him as a joke, but _fuck._ It’s still the worst fight we’ve ever had in 22 years of friendship. Zayn had to literally stand between us because we were screaming at each other so much.”

“Jesus,” Harry mutters. 

“He told me I was selling out too young, that I was wasting my life and I was going to end up pregnant or bonded against my will or with some incurable disease, which to be fair I probably could have done, but I wasn’t ready to admit that yet. I _was_ being reckless, but in my mind, as long as I was getting regular sexual health checks I was fine.”

“So when did you join the agency?” Harry asks. 

“I’ll get to that,” Louis says. “After that fight with Liam, he told my mum.”

Harry lets out a long whistling sigh. “He told your mum?”

“Yep,” Louis says, popping the P sound. “Bastard. I’m not sure I’ve ever properly forgiven him for it. Having to go home and face her that day was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.” He shakes his head. “I’d kept it a secret for well over a year at that point. I was so _angry_ that she had to know.”

Whenever Louis talks about his mum, his voice gets smaller, quieter, _sadder_. “I thought she was going to kill me there and then. I’ve never seen her so angry. She sent all my sisters upstairs and then proceeded to scream at me for god knows how long.” Harry pulls him in tighter. “She said that if she’d known about what I’d been doing to earn money this whole time she would have turned it down. That… that hurt, because it was all for them. Everything I ever did was for them.”

Louis isn’t crying, but he’s trembling in Harry’s hold, visibly upset. “My mum was my best friend but that fight put a strain on our relationship that I couldn’t fix for years. I ended up moving to London right after that because Zayn and Liam moved down there. They let me stay at theirs and I came across the agency I was with after a while. It was better, obviously, because it was safer and the clients only knew my first name, and I was able to work with people I knew were clean and only wanted me with them during their ruts.”

“God,” Harry moans. “You’re breaking my heart, Louis. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you.”

“It was shit,” Louis says bluntly. “It was fucking garbage. I was depressed for so many years, drinking loads and smoking myself ragged. Liam and Zayn were brilliant, I have to admit, letting me live there rent free while I tried to get on a degree course. And I did, after a while, but my student loan alone wasn’t enough to make ends meet by myself in London. I wanted to stay away, but I’ve said it before. It’s too easy to go back when the money is as good as it can be.”

“But you were getting a degree? You’ve got a Master’s, Lou.”

“I know,” Louis says, almost _snaps._ “I know and I nearly broke myself working towards it. I needed to prove that I could do it.”

Harry kisses his forehead softly. “And you did it,” he murmurs. “That’s something you should be incredibly proud of.”

“But how was I meant to get a job with my shiny new Master’s degree if all I had to put on my CV was that I was an O-For-Hire? I mean, who would hire me to work with vulnerable adults or children when I was shagging for a living?” Louis pinches the skin between his eyes. “Before I met you, I was kind of just… existing, I guess? Since my mum died I’ve been so flat, just working to live rather than doing anything exciting or even trying to get myself out of it. I almost didn’t want to. I mean, what was the point?”

“But you did it.” Harry tilts his head up and presses their lips together, smiling as Louis smiles back and cups his cheek. “You bloody did it, you gorgeous thing.”

Louis chuckles “You know, my geography teacher in high school told me I’d never amount to anything, and I’d kind of resigned myself to that fate. I had no intention of going to uni and I had no idea if or when I planned to stop doing the easy, well-paying job. Seemed to me like I’d found something that paid me fairly decent money for something people found me good at and that was good enough.”

“Your geography teacher can go fuck himself,” Harry says hotly. “Imagine saying that to a teenager, fucking hell.”

“Yeah, well.” Louis turns his face into Harry’s armpit for a second, taking a deep breath. “Look at me now. I’m going to be a fucking doctor.”

“Damn straight,” Harry grins, leaning down to steal another kiss. “You’ve got a lot to be proud of, my darling, and I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Louis whimpers, and it’s only then that Harry notices how red his eyes are, tears clumping on his eyelashes. “I don’t regret it, you know. I know I should regret bits of it, and I regret what it did to my relationships and my mental health and whatnot, but I don’t regret that it funded my sisters through school and bought them lovely things they would have gone without.”

“I understand,” Harry promises him. “And I can’t even be mad about it either because it’s how we met.”

“Exactly,” Louis giggles, stroking Harry’s face with his thumb. “The idea that we wouldn’t have met is, like, unfathomable to me now. I don’t even want to think about a life where our paths wouldn’t have crossed.”

“We probably would have found each other eventually,” Harry says, and he believes that. A life where he and Louis aren’t together isn’t one he wants to even consider living, but they _are_ soulmates. They would have found each other somehow, he’s sure of it. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to risk it,” Louis hums. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve gone from being sad and depressed and selling my arse for a living to someone who is mostly happy and studying to become a doctor, all while having found the love of my life.”

_Love of his life._

“Louis,” Harry chokes out. “Fuck, I couldn’t love you more if I tried.”

When Louis slams their mouths together, Harry feels wetness on his cheeks and he goes to pull back, but Louis keeps his grip firm on Harry’s face. 

“Me neither,” he croaks weakly when he pulls back. “God, thank you. Thank you for listening and, you know. For being you.”

“Anytime,” Harry chuckles wetly. He practically hauls Louis into his lap, wrapping his arms around his middle. “You’re not so bad yourself. 

Louis giggles again and tucks Harry’s arms around him and he leans back so he can look up at him. There’s a mix of emotions coming off him in waves, Harry can still smell the stress in his pheromones, but he can also smell the relief, the exhaustion, and most of all, the love radiating off of him. “I love that you don’t care about my past, I really do. I love that you just accepted it and you’re helping me work through it. I spent years worrying about never finding that in an alpha.”

“It’s not that I don’t care,” Harry says, using the tip of his index finger to trace the bow of Louis’s lips. “I just know that it’s not who you are anymore and that it’s not your defining feature.” And then, because they’re being honest and sharing secrets, he says, “If I’m honest, it did bother me at first. I hated—well, I still do—that you were seeing other alphas.”

Louis frowns. “When?”

“When we first started doing that thing where we pretended to be friends,” Harry huffs. “Those two weeks I was in America, all I could think about were the fact that you were probably with other alphas then and there.”

“Harry,” Louis says slowly. “Baby, there haven’t been any other alphas since you.”

Harry blinks at him. “But…”

“I called in sick every day they sent me alphas over in those two weeks.” Louis shakes his head, looking a little disbelieving. “And fuck, I didn’t want to be honest with myself about why I was doing it so when we started, like, getting serious, I just kept bringing up my job because I didn’t want you to think I was a loser who wanted to be a kept omega.”

Harry’s head is spinning. “So, this whole time? It was only me?”

“Always only you,” Louis promises, smiling his brilliant smile. “I’m sorry I was such a stubborn prick at the beginning. It’s only because I couldn’t believe you actually wanted me.”

Harry shakes his head. “I think we’re both idiots when it comes to each other. It’s quite embarrassing really.”

“Super embarrassing,” Louis agrees. “Super fucking lame and gay and truly awful.” He pulls Harry down for another kiss. “Kinda love it though.”

Harry laughs again and kisses Louis breathless, because that’s what you do when you’re in love. And he’s very much in love with this omega right here. 

The fact that he’s in love with Louis isn’t a secret by any means. By now, they’ve met each other’s families and friends, discussed their pasts and futures in great length and even started being more adventurous in the bedroom at long last. They know the passwords for each other’s laptops and phones and the pin numbers to each other’s credit cards. They’re very much committed to one another and secrets between them aren't something Harry really worries about anymore. 

He does want to know more about what Louis wants in the bedroom though. 

It’s taken a while to get Louis to shake things up in the bedroom. Sometimes it’s very clear to Harry that he’s still unlearning the idea that sex is something for two partners to enjoy together, meaning they don’t just have to do penetrative sex all the time. 

Sometimes Louis is game for something different but more often than not he seems to crave the kind of intimacy that they both have taken to calling _making love_ ; that slow, intimate kind of sex that keeps them both pressed together, touching, kissing, _loving._

“Tell me a fantasy of yours,” Harry murmurs to Louis one night when they’re kissing in bed, both freshly showered and feeling a little frisky. On an ordinary night, Harry would probably open Louis up slowly with his fingers and his tongue and then fuck him slow and deep in the missionary position, kissing him throughout and telling him how much he loves him when he comes, but not tonight. 

“A fantasy?” Louis asks breathily as Harry starts to kiss down his neck. “What do you mean?”

“A fantasy,” Harry repeats, pushing himself up on his knees so he can hover over him, boxing him in. “Something you want me to do to you or you want to do to me.”

“Like go on holiday?” Louis blinks up at him coyly. “Or a good night’s sleep without you snoring like a rusty car engine next to me?”

“Very funny,” Harry titters. “No, I’m serious. Is there something you want to try that we haven’t yet. Doesn’t even have to be kinky, just a different position or whatever.” 

Louis goes silent for a moment, his face pinched together as he thinks. “I, um. I’ve always wanted to be, like…” He trails off and his face gets pinker the longer he doesn’t say anything. “Like, double stuffed?”

“Double… stuffed?” Harry was _not_ expecting that. “Like, fucked by two people?”

“Fuck no,” Louis breathes out. He looks appalled by the very suggestion. “No. Please never make me sleep with an alpha that isn’t you ever again.”

“Noted,” Harry says with a nod, ducking down to kiss that suggestion right out of Louis’s head. “I wouldn’t allow it anyway. So in lieu of another alpha, are we talking, like, toys?”

Louis is positively magenta as he nods against the pillow. “It’s still so weird talking about sex I actually want to have,” he admits quietly. Harry laces their hands together. “But yes. I want you to, like, be on top of me and, like, all over me.” He takes a deep breath. “Basically I really want you to sit on my chest, fuck my mouth and play with my arse all at once.”

He blurts it out all in one breath and Harry’s eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline. 

“Hang on,” he says, then raises himself up on his knees and balances himself over Louis’s littler body. He doesn’t sink down all the way but if he inches just a little further forward, his cock could easily be pushed into Louis’s mouth. “But I’d crush you.”

Louis shakes his head. “You wouldn’t,” he says with a squeeze of Harry’s hand. “Plus, I kinda like it. You’re all I can, like, see and taste and touch like this. I’m powerless to you in this position.”

Harry’s dick perks up even more at that. “Yeah? You like this?” He lowers himself down a little more onto Louis’s chest, still not surrendering his entire weight but definitely more than before. “Like this?”

Louis nods frantically and his hands shoot forward to grip Harry’s knees. “That’s exactly it.” His mouth is so close to Harry’s half-hard cock and he presses the daintiest little kiss to the shaft, looking up at Harry with his baby blue eyes. And in that moment, Harry feels more powerful than he’s ever felt before. “Can you reach behind you from there, alpha?”

Harry’s stomach clenches at the use of _that_ word. “Yeah, baby,” he says hoarsely, leaning back and using his left hand to feel around for Louis’s hole. Louis spreads his legs nice and wide and he finds it easily, already a little slick. “Good boy.”

Louis whimpers in response as Harry starts to rub at his entrance, warm and tight and starting to get wet. The atmosphere feels new and charged between them all of a sudden, like now they’ve started they can’t stop. It feels easy as breathing to take control like this, but then again Harry supposes it should. He’s having sex with his soulmate, after all. 

“Can I push inside, angel?” he asks carefully. “Tuck my fingers inside your pretty pussy and then you suck my cock, how does that sound?”

They’re stumbling into newer territory now as Louis nods excitedly, opening his mouth wide and trying to guide the head of Harry’s dick into his mouth without using his hands. But Harry stops him, using the hand not between Louis’s arsecheeks to press his mouth shut. 

“Don’t be greedy.”

He hears the crunch of Louis’s jaw as he slams it closed, blinking up at him with his shiny eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“That’s okay, darling.” Harry takes a second to steady his balance before he slides the tip of one finger inside Louis’s hole. Louis gasps. “Good boy. Taking it so well already. About to have both your holes filled, you greedy boy.”

“Not greedy,” Louis mumbles petulantly. “Only want you, alpha.”

“Yeah, you do,” Harry grunts. “My gorgeous boy. Look at you.” He keeps his middle finger tucked inside Louis and uses his ring and index fingers to spread the slick around his arse. “Want me in all your holes and nobody else ever again, isn’t that right?”

Louis nods eagerly and then opens his mouth again, tongue pressed out in waiting, but he doesn’t move his head forward again. He keeps staring up at Harry patiently and Harry can barely stand it any longer. He’s almost fully hard just from this and he nods, just once, before he takes his cock in hand.

“You want to suck?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. Louis makes a happy sound and nods again. “Good boy, my pretty boy. Gonna be so nice and full of your alpha, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Louis moans breathily, then flicks his tongue forward, just brushing Harry’s slit. “Please can I taste?”

Harry shuffled forward and nods. “Of course you can, angel boy. You’ve been so good and patient. Love you so much, there’s a good boy.”

Louis takes Harry in easily, making an obnoxious slurping sound as Harry feeds his cock into his waiting mouth. He’s balanced on his knees and he does a few experimental thrusts in and out, moving slowly at first as Louis adjusts to the weight in his mouth. 

“Okay, baby?” Harry reaches forward and groans as he presses his hand into Louis’s cheek, feeling the outline of his cockhead through his skin. 

_That’s so hot_. 

Louis grunts and nods shallowly, then raises his head up a little higher so Harry can push deeper. Harry pushes forward, letting his hips find a steady rhythm for a few moments before he reaches back and tucks his finger inside Louis’s hole. 

Louis moans and almost chokes around Harry’s dick as Harry slowly works one finger in and out, making sure he can stay balanced and accessible for Louis’s eager mouth while also fingering him. Louis’s arse is naturally slick from being so turned on and it’s easy for him to work up to two fingers, sliding them in and out at an easy rhythm, working in time with him thrusting his hips forward to meet Louis’s mouth. 

He’s practically humping Louis’s chest at this point but from the way the omega beneath him looks and the sounds he’s making, he fucking _loves_ it. 

It’s not the easiest position to stay in and he does end up slipping out of Louis a couple of times, but Louis greedily sucks him back in. His eyes are a bit wild, like he doesn’t want to be empty, and even though Harry can’t quite reach his prostate from this angle, he kind of thinks he could make Louis come just like this. 

Louis doesn’t need as much direct stimulation as Harry does being an omega, and often omegas can come just from pleasuring their alphas alone. It’s some fucked up biology but right now, when he’s got the person he loves most in the world writhing underneath his body and his cock in his mouth, he can’t bring himself to care about that. They’re both going to come and come _hard,_ and right now that’s all he can think about. 

Tears are streaming down Louis’s little face and the sounds he’s making are _obscene_ , wet and needy and _loud_ every time Harry’s fingers push deep inside. He’s an absolute vision and he is entirely at Harry’s mercy, and there’s something so unbelievably hot about that that it spurs him on, eager to make him come first. 

Louis’s chin is a mess of spit and precum but he’s not let up his relentless sucking for barely a moment, and Harry really wants to reward him for taking him so well. 

“My good boy,” he coos, then pulls his fingers out from Louis’s wet arse. Louis makes a noise of protest around Harry’s length but Harry moves his slick-wet hand up to Louis’s own hard, neglected prick and gives it a few easy tugs. 

The cock drops from Louis’s mouth as he throws his head back and practically screams in pleasure, his orgasm finally hitting him, and hitting him _hard_. Harry works him through it, white streaks painting his fist, and he takes his hand away once Louis’s trembled through his orgasm and Harry playing with his cock is bordering on uncomfortable. 

“Harry, _oh_ my god, _please,_ hurts…”

Harry brings his soiled hand to Louis’s lips and he starts licking at it greedily, clearing away his own jizz like it’s fucking ice cream. 

“Want you to come,” Louis coaxes, his voice wrecked. He takes both his little hands and starts working them over Harry’s sensitive dick, then he opens his mouth and starts kitten licking at the tip, his wide eyes wet and glazed over and staring up at Harry like he’s magic. 

Harry comes all over Louis’s face. 

He almost topples forward but he manages to slam his hand onto the top of the headboard just in time, painting Louis’s mouth and chin with his spunk. Louis laps up what lands inside his mouth and swallows it, smacking his lips together afterwards like he’s eaten something truly delicious. 

It could be his own ego talking but Louis looks blissed out, like he thoroughly enjoyed getting jizzed on. His eyes are unseeing and glassy, his movements lazy as he slides his sweaty hands up and down Harry’s quaking thighs. 

“You’re heavy,” he croaks. “Get off.”

Harry chuckles as he swings his leg off of Louis and slides down onto the mattress. He’s sweaty but Louis seems to be shivering a bit so he pulls up the duvet and tucks them in, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Louis’s lax lips. 

“That was glorious,” Louis hums conversationally. “You should come on my face more often.”

Harry chuckles. “Okay, if you insist.”

“I do insist,” Louis hums. There’s still some come drying on his cheek and Harry’s half tempted to brush it away with his thumb, but part of him wants to keep it there, like he’s marked his territory. It’s a very alpha thing to think, but he feels okay thinking it because it’s just the two of them safely tucked away in their apartment. “And I also… quite liked calling you alpha just then.” He suddenly looks nervous. “Did you like it?”

“I really liked it,” Harry admits, draping an arm over Louis’s middle. “It felt… I mean, it felt right in the context, didn’t you think?”

“I really did,” Louis murmurs. “I mean, I feel like you know I know your name by now.” Harry snorts. “Like, I want to be, like, your omega in bed. And it worked then, don’t you think?”

“I love you,” Harry tells him, nudging their noses together. “And I love being your alpha, in bed and out of it.”

Louis presses their lips together tenderly. “Mmm, me too. I love being your omega, which is… I guess it’s character development? Because I used to hate the idea of being someone’s omega and now every time I come near you I want to sink to my knees and call you _alpha_.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Harry says happily. He feels all warm inside and it’s all to do with the omega in his arms. And every time they move and grow together and cross something that could be a hurdle, it only serves to make him prouder and fall even deeper in love than he already is.

It just seems like the final hurdle for them to jump across is their public coming out. 

They’ve discussed coming out in great length, of course. They’ve discussed it with just the two of them and they’ve talked about it with Niall and the rest of Harry’s PR team, but they’ve made the decision that now isn’t the right time. Harry would be happy to come out tomorrow if that’s what Louis wanted, but it’s Louis that’s the apprehensive one. 

Louis remains worried that his past job isn’t far enough behind him yet, that if they came out now he’d be talked about as ‘former prostitute’ rather than ‘doctoral student and Harry Styles’s life partner’. Harry can see his point so he doesn’t press. He’s happy enough to have Louis to himself for now. 

So they’re doing what Niall calls hiding in plain sight. 

“If you want Louis with you at these events, you don’t have to leave him behind,” he tells him over brunch one day. “Otherwise you and him would never leave the house together. Nobody will care that much if you’re seen with someone in Tesco or in a restaurant or whatever. And for events like the Gucci party next week, it’s all folk from the same industry doing the same thing.” He shrugs. “But for god’s sake, take your boyfriend with you if you want to. Life’s too short to not spend time with the person you love.”

“Is this you speaking from experience?” Harry asks dryly as he butters his toast. 

“Absolutely,” Niall says sombrely. “I had to be in America for your fucking Madison Square Gardens concert over Hailee’s birthday the first year we were married. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for that.”

And all jokes aside, Harry appreciates that. He was sceptical at first that hiding in plain sight was even a thing because he’s spent so much of his career living for the spotlight and to appease media outlets. But with Louis, it’s so special and something that’s inherently theirs, so it’s quite nice to do things for them and not necessarily for PR purposes. 

They’ve got the rest of their lives to come out and utilise their relationship for PR purposes anyway. 

They’re doing a lot of hiding in plain sight these days. Just last week they went out for a meal at a very posh steakhouse in London with Zayn and Liam and they definitely weren’t shy in acting like a couple then, especially after a couple of cocktails.

And now it’s London Fashion Week and he’s leading the runway for Gucci, and if anybody thinks for a second that Louis isn’t going to be on the front row then they’re out of their mind. 

Originally his plan had been for Louis to sit with his mum, but Louis had pointed out that if they’re hiding in plain sight then nothing is more obvious than having the omega you're sometimes pictured with sitting with your family. Anne had ended up being unable to come anyway because she’s going to a wedding on the same day, so in the end Louis ends up sitting with Niall and Hailee, and a few of Harry’s team sit on the row behind. 

They barely see each other before the show because Harry is whisked straight off backstage to go through hair, makeup and wardrobe. It’s always a bit mad on days when he walks catwalk shows because they’re all on such a time crunch, so they’re separated almost as soon as he arrives. He also doesn’t get to look at his phone - too busy being moved frantically between wardrobe and beauty and Alessandro himself - but he knows Louis is on the front row, which for some inexplicable reason makes him ten times more nervous. He’s only walking, for fuck’s sake, but it’s a lot of pressure when you’re doing it in front of your favourite person.

All he’s wanted since he met Louis is for him to be proud of him, for him to be proud of the alpha he’s _chosen,_ and it’s nerve-wracking to be put under the spotlight in front of him like this.

He can’t glance at Louis, has to keep staring forward with his face carefully neutral, but he doesn’t need to. He knows - he can _smell -_ that Louis is the proudest person in the audience and for the first time in his entire runway walking career, he _almost_ breaks face to smile at him because he just can’t fucking help himself. He _doesn’t,_ but almost. 

He walks the runway three times in three different outfits, all beautiful and unique and exactly why he favours Gucci over any other fashion brand. He feels gorgeous in Gucci in a way that no other clothes make him feel and (if they’ll have him) it’s the main brand he wants to work with for the rest of his life. 

Like always, the show feels like it’s over in the blink of an eye, which is always mad to him considering just how much work and preparation goes into them. But it’s over for another six months and everyone seems delighted with how it went, hugging and congratulating him as he moves backstage. 

Alessandro, the creative director of the brand and someone he now considers to be a lifelong friend, seeks him out specially, smacking two wet kisses onto his cheeks. 

“You bring me so much pride every time you walk down that runway,” he tells Harry, squeezing at his shoulders. “I could not have picked a better face for my designs.”

“Well, now you’re gonna make me cry,” Harry pretends to weep into his hand. “No, seriously though. It’s a blessing and an honour to wear your designs. I’ll wear them as long as you deem me to be the best face.”

Alessandro laughs and kisses both his cheeks again. “Perfect. I will have your face for a long time, I’m sure.” Harry grins. “By the way, _stella._ Your omega is waiting for you. He is really something, eh?”

Harry’s grin widens. “You been talking to my Louis?” He squeezes Alessandro’s hip. “What do you think?”

Alessandro pauses for a second, like he’s carefully choosing his words. “ _Loud,”_ is what he settles on, and Harry bursts out laughing. “But clearly… what is the expression? Head over heels?”

“Yeah, he is.” It’s a little crazy to Harry that in that moment, he realises that he must be _disgustingly_ in love if he’s happy to talk about Louis after a walk like that, but here he is. “Hey. I better go and find him. Will I see you at the party?”

“ _Si,_ of course,” Alessandro nods. “I look forward to meeting him then.”

Harry kisses both his cheeks again and bids him goodbye, then opens the door to his dressing room where he’s met with an armful of excitable omega almost instantly.

“Oh my god. Hello, you.”

“Hello,” Louis says airily, like he hasn’t just charged at him and almost knocked the wind out of him. “God, you’re fit.”

Harry snorts. “Thank you, baby.” He sets Louis down and then draws him in for a sweet kiss. “This is a four thousand pound suit and you just wiped yourself all over it, you know.”

“Oh please. Like you don’t get to keep the four thousand pound suit and it won’t smell like me anyway from being in our house.”

Harry grins. “Touché.” He kisses him again. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Louis nods. “I did. There was one really fit model that caught my eye though. Tall and curly and kind of smouldering.” He beams up at Harry. “Do you think you can get me his number?”

Harry pretends to think about it. “Maybe. He might even take you home if you’re lucky.”

Louis hums and kisses him again, and it’s almost easy for Harry to forget they’re on a deadline when he’s got Louis kissing him like this. 

Until Niall starts banging on the door and demanding they _move their merry asses,_ so they break apart and Harry rushes to get changed, and then they’re on their way. 

They’ve got the after party in two hours where they’ll see everyone again and talk about the show properly, so they move out of there at speed because they need to get changed and ready. While Harry’s used to being fashionably late, there’s a difference between _fashionably late_ and _rude,_ and because Louis likes to faff and fidget he always worries they may fall into the latter category. 

It’s a bit unorthodox but Harry’s always liked to go home before an after party or follow-up event if he can. He loves the ritual and routine of getting ready in his own bedroom, with a martini in hand and his boyfriend by his side. Plus, now he’s got Louis by his side, he likes the opportunity to spend a bit of solo time with him; that’s not a euphemism, but there’s something about just being with Louis by themselves that really grounds him and takes that feeling of being too worked up and overwhelmed away. 

They’re moving through the pavilion at the front of the building, eager to get to the car and on their way home so Harry can have that goddamn martini before he even starts getting ready, but then a shout of his name from somewhere behind them slows him down. 

“Harry Styles and friend!”

Harry goes to ignore it, keeping Louis close as he tries to move them through the crowd, but Louis isn’t as used to events like these so he stops and turns. 

“Someone’s shouting us,” he says, tugging on Harry’s hand. “Am I the friend?”

“Keep moving,” Harry starts to say, but the voices behind them are getting louder. “Lou, stop.”

“Harry Styles and friend,” the voice calls again, and suddenly it’s right behind them. Harry tightens his grip on Louis even more and he turns to come face to face with two blokes in suits, an alpha and a beta. “Hello, sorry, wasn’t sure if you could hear us.”

“Hello,” Harry says coolly. He’s not a fan of being shouted at like that, let alone by strangers at a private event. “How can I help you gentlemen?”

“Allow us to introduce ourselves,” the Alpha says, extending a hand. “My name is Sam, this here is Dave. We’re here to scout for sportswear models who would be interested in working in partnership with Adidas and JD Sports.”

“Oh, alright,” Harry says, a little confused as he reaches out to shake Sam’s hand, then Dave’s. He’s just walked for Gucci, for crying out loud, so why would they think he’d be a good fit for a sportswear campaign? He’s never done anything like that before. “I’ve not done any sportswear modelling for several years.”

“Actually, it’s not you we really wanted to talk to,” Sam says. He drops his gaze to Louis. “Your friend here—sorry, we weren’t sure of your name—is pretty much exactly what we’re looking for right now.”

“Me?” Louis blurts, looking up at Harry before he blinks at the two men. Then he snorts. “Me, a model?”

“Yeah, you.” Sam smiles a blinding, over-the-top smile that kind of makes Harry’s skin crawl as he holds out his hand for Louis. “What’s your name, sir?”

“It’s Louis,” Louis stammers out as he shakes both men’s hands. “Louis Tomlinson.”

“Great to meet you, Louis,” Sam says. “I take from your reaction that you’ve never done any type of modelling before?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nope, never. Never even considered it, mate.”

“Do you have a job at the moment?”

Louis swallows audibly. “I’m a doctoral student,” he says carefully, and Harry’s heart soars with pride. He’s so happy he was able to keep his voice level. “I’ll be doing my PhD full time from October.”

“That’s awesome,” Sam says, with a little too much enthusiasm for Harry’s liking. “What are you studying?”

Louis opens his mouth to reply but Harry gives him a gentle pinch on the hip. “Sorry, gents, to break up the small talk but we’re in a bit of a rush to get somewhere,” he interrupts, fixing Sam with a stern stare. It’s not that he doesn’t think Louis has what it takes to be a model, of course not—as far as Harry’s concerned there’s no better looking person in the _world_ —but it’s this new alpha he doesn’t trust. “Is there a way you can put all this in an email?”

Sam’s smile remains wide and gets a little crisper round the edges as he moves his stare to Harry. “Sure,” he says brightly. “I mean, if you think this is something you’d be interested in knowing more about, Louis, I can email it over.”

“I, uh, yeah,” Louis says, still looking a bit unsure about the whole thing. “I just don’t know if I’m really the kind of guy you’re looking for.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Dave says, his smile equally as wide and contrived. It’s the first time he’s spoken properly in this little meeting. “We’re looking for a young, male omega who makes sportswear look like high fashion. And that’s pretty much what you’re bringing here now.”

“You want to use male omegas?” Louis sounds as shocked as Harry feels. “In sportswear?”

Both men nod. “Times are a-changin’, Louis, my man. And you’re exactly the kind of omega we’re looking for.”

“Oh,” Louis says dumbly. His hand is scrunched tight in the back of Harry’s shirt. “Well, okay. Um. I guess you can put it in an email and I’ll look it over.”

Sam nods and pulls a card out of his back pocket. “Do you have representation? An agent?”

Louis starts to shake his head but then a familiar voice from behind them interrupts. “Yes, he does.”

God _bless_ Niall Horan. 

Niall appears on Harry’s other side, winking at the pair of them before he extends his hand out to Sam. “Niall Horan, nice to meet ya.”

Sam raises his eyebrows as he takes Niall’s hand. “Pleasure’s all mine. And you’re his…”

“I manage Harry and therefore I represent Louis,” Niall says proudly, puffing out his chest like he always does when he lets people know he works with Harry Styles. Harry finds it absolutely hilarious.

“Right,” Sam says, dropping Niall’s hand and holding the business card up to his eye level. “Well, here you go. If you get in touch with me, I’ll send over some further information.”

Niall nods and pockets the card. “Great, I’ll be in touch.” He turns to Harry and Louis. “Come on lads, we’re on a deadline. Nice to meet you both.”

“Bye.” Harry offers a short wave with the hand that isn’t firmly wrapped around Louis’s waist. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” Louis echoes. Harry feels him drop his hand from Harry’s back and he moves quickly to take his hand in his, keen to keep him close in this busy space. 

Niall wasn’t lying and Harry wasn’t either, they’ve got to get to the Gucci after party and Harry will be expected to change into something new. They move quickly towards the car and they’re gestured inside by a bodyguard that Harry recognises but doesn’t know the name of, and the second all three of them are inside the car speeds off. 

Louis buckles himself in and looks at Harry with raised eyebrows. “So.”

“So,” Harry echoes. “My baby’s going to be a model.”

Niall roars with laughter and Louis slaps him on the thigh. “Hardly,” he snorts. “I don’t think they were being serious, darling.”

Harry cocks his eyebrow. “What? What do you mean? I think they were being pretty serious, babe.”

“Well,” Louis starts, then gestures up and down himself, pulling a face like it’s obvious. “Have you seen me? I’m not a model.”

“Not yet,” Harry corrects. “You could be one. Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve never thought about this before but you’d make a great model.”

“Harry, I love you very much but you’re stupid sometimes,” Louis hums, settling back in his seat and crossing his arms. “I would not make a great model. They only singled me out because I’m an omega and I was with you.”

“Louis,” Harry frowns. He _hates_ self-deprecating Louis. “Niall, tell him.”

Niall, who has been typing away on his phone since they got in the car, doesn’t look up but offers them a thumbs up. “Just drafting the email now, Louis.”

“ _What_?” Louis shrieks, then shakes his head wildly. “No, don’t send that, what the fuck?”

Niall holds up his hands. “I’m not sending it, for Christ’s sake. I’m just drafting it to make sure you’re happy with it, mate.”

Louis laughs hollowly and shrinks back into his chair. “You are absolutely, categorically not to send that, do you understand?”

“But Lou…” 

“I said no,” Louis repeats, then glares at Harry until he closes his mouth again. “Our problem for later, at the very least. Today is about you and if we could _all_ shut the fuck up, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Fine,” Harry concedes. “But we’ll talk about it properly tomorrow.”

“No, we won’t,” Louis says loudly. “Can the driver turn the music up? I love this song.”

“You hate Ed Sheeran,” Harry mutters under his breath, but he knows better than to argue further. He pointedly doesn’t meet Niall’s eye, who is definitely snickering at the exchange, and keeps quiet for the rest of their journey home. 

They’ve only got an hour before they need to be back in the car and on their way to the party, so once they’re back inside the flat Harry moves to shower in the en-suite in their bedroom while Louis uses the one attached to the guest bedroom he used to sleep in. 

In typical Gucci fashion, their outfits for tonight are simple but with flair; Harry’s wearing a pair of extremely high-waisted black trousers with a white shirt and asymmetrical red bow tie, while Louis has settled for a glittery black suit over a plain white shirt. They’d had their usual argument about not needing to spend as much money on a suit for Louis as Louis used to spend on rent, but as far as Harry’s concerned it’s a no brainer. 

Harry’s tried his own outfit on about a dozen times at this point but it doesn’t feel any less special when he slips the trousers up his hips and zips them up, taking care to make sure his shirt is clipped into place inside them so nothing bunches up anywhere. He carefully slides the bow tie over his neck and takes great care in tying it up just as Alessandro had shown him those dozen times. 

He’s just wincing through the pain of inserting a heavy earring into his freshly pierced ear (he doesn’t like it but Louis seems obsessed with it) when Louis appears behind him, looking gorgeous in his glittery suit. 

“Forgot my hair wax,” he murmurs, sliding past Harry and grinning as their eyes meet in the mirror. “You look bloody gorgeous, darling. A treat for the eyes.”

Harry preens at the praise. He knows he looks good but there’s something just a little more special about hearing it from Louis. “Thank you, love,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side so Louis can lean over and kiss his cheek. “You look amazing too, you know. Absolutely model material.”

Louis goes to pinch him on the cheek but Harry ducks just in time and they both giggle because it feels a bit like being a naughty schoolboy, messing around like this when Harry’s outfit costs the same as a deposit on a house. 

“I feel like Alessandro would kill me if he saw me do that,” Louis grins. “Like proper kill me before he’s even gotten to know me.”

“I wouldn’t let him.” Harry kisses his cheek before turning back to the mirror. “You look absolutely to die for too, you know. Seeing you in Gucci is enough to get me hard.”

“Smooth-talking alpha prick,” Louis drawls, but really he looks rather pleased. “How's the ear?”

“Sore,” Harry says, then hisses as it swings when he gestures to it. “Fucking _bastard.”_

Louis bursts out laughing and pretends to coo, but before Harry can give him a catty remark his phone rings; it’s Niall, letting him know their car is outside. Louis squeaks and makes quick work of sorting out his hair, and then they head downstairs hand in hand and they’re on their way. 

One of the beautiful things about a party like this is that they’re not having to hide in plain sight in the same way they had to while actually at the show because the paps aren’t allowed inside and nobody here is the general public. Everyone is strictly guest list only, meaning it’s mostly Harry’s close circle and a few of his favourite industry acquaintances, so he’s free to hold Louis’s hand and kiss him however much he wants to, and also introduce Louis to people he’s been dying for him to meet. 

The party is a lot of fun, which isn’t always the case with events like this, but Harry’s on such a high from today that all he’s already feeling giddy before he’s even touched the champagne. He’s walked one of the highest-acclaimed walks of his modelling career and he can proudly introduce a room full of his friends and peers to the love of his life, so he’s _buzzing_. 

He keeps Louis’s hand clasped in his for most of the night because he _can_ , which is special in itself, but there’s also the fact that the venue has wall to ceiling pictures of him in some of his favourite outfits and it’s clear that everyone present knows him to be the star of the show. It’s a bit surreal and unbelievably exciting, especially when Alessandro mentions Harry as _the future of Gucci_ in his welcome speech, which makes his heart lurch in his chest and his mouth drop open. 

_The future of Gucci._

“And now we drink.” Alessandro rounds off his speech by raising a glass. “To Harry Styles.”

“To Harry Styles,” the room choruses, which is enough to make Harry tear up and for Louis to have to gently mop his face with a napkin. 

From there, the food and drink are brought out and things get very messy very quickly. 

The food is delicious, the champagne expensive and flowing, and the music is blaring. Harry loves a dance so he drags Louis onto the dance floor the second the food is cleared away, proudly proclaiming that he doesn’t have to be drunk to throw some crazy shapes. 

“But darling, you _are_ drunk,” Louis giggles. “Drunk and lovely.”

“ _You’re_ drunk and lovely,” Harry mumbles, then proceeds to snog Louis loudly and messily in the middle of the dance floor until Niall forces them apart and into their car, muttering something about _not getting paid enough to stay up until 2am and watch them dry hump in public, you hideous fuckers._

When Harry wakes up the following morning, it’s to the sound of Louis being sick in the en-suite, ending almost makes _him_ sick as a result. They barely move and barely even speak to each other for the rest of the day, which probably serves them right for those tequila shots they did with Sam Smith before the end of the night. 

Louis doesn’t bring up the topic of his own modelling offer again, which sort of fits with Harry’s plan to let it sit with Louis for a few days before he brings it up again himself. They’ve just had sex, which is usually when Louis is at his softest and most likely to acquiesce to whatever Harry has to say, so once Harry’s taken his time cleaning him off and kissing his soft skin, he brings it up. 

“So, baby,” he says, settling back against the pillows and pulling Louis into his chest. “Have you given that whole modelling thing any more thought?”

Louis groans and twists Harry’s nipple. “For fuck’s sake. I’ve been waiting for you to bring this up, you jerk. Why did you have to do it when I was actually starting to like you again?”

Harry grins despite his throbbing nipple. “So you’ve given it some thought then?”

Louis groans even louder. “Well, it’s not exactly been an easy thing to forget.”

Harry kisses the top of his head, patiently waiting for him to continue. He can only probe so much or Louis won’t offer anything up, especially if it’s something that’s worrying him or making him feel nervous or insecure, so he simply squeezes him and waits. 

“I just don’t think I’m pretty enough to be a model,” Louis mumbles into his chest dejectedly. “Though I don’t suppose any model thinks they’re pretty enough.” 

Harry can’t help the snort that escapes him. “I’m not sure that’s the case, sorry to disappoint. I think a lot of models know how fit they are, but it can be a blessing and a curse. In fact, I think the best models I’ve met are the ones who _don’t_ know how fit they are.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient?” Louis says flatly, then he sighs. “I dunno. I’m still mulling it over. At first it felt like an obvious no, but the more I think about it, the more I’m like… I dunno. I could see if I enjoy this one shoot and if I don’t, I just won’t do it again.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Harry says. “Like, I’ve been in this business a bloody long time and I can tell you the competition is massive. If you’ve been sought out, especially at bloody Fashion Week, then that’s kind of a big deal.”

“Quite interesting that they’re headhunting at Fashion Week,” Louis notes. “Especially at shows in a genre like high fashion rather than, like, what normal people wear.”

“Well, yeah, to be fair what you saw tonight wouldn’t be anything like what you’d be doing though,” Harry explains. “Because that was all high fashion and the big ridiculous fashion houses and you’d be, like…”

“Much smaller fry?” Louis says dryly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say it like that,” Harry grumbles. “It’s a completely different world, is my point. I don’t know much about sportswear modelling other than I can’t imagine anyone wearing it better than you.”

Louis snorts. “Loser.” 

“I think you look fit as fuck in it,” Harry insists. “And you look like a model when you’re lounging around the house and stuff, so you might as well get paid for it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Louis huffs eventually. “I can barely think now I’m so tired. It’s fucking exhausting spending the day hearing and talking about how great _you_ are. Drains all my energy.”

“I’m _so_ sorry, baby,” Harry hums. “Don't worry. London Fashion Week comes but twice a year.”

“That’s one more time a year than it needs to,” Louis says, rolling over onto his side and yanking the covers up to his neck, shuffling back so he’s tucked up in the warmth of Harry’s body too. “Night, superstar.”

“Night, I love you,” Harry whispers. He flicks the lamp beside the bed off and then leans forward to press a kiss to Louis’s head. “Even if all you do is bitch about my work.”

“It might be my work soon,” Louis mumbles, but then promptly falls asleep before Harry can say _I told you so._

He _knew_ Louis would go for it, and this feels like confirmation enough. Feeling only a little bit smug, Harry pulls him in closer, kisses him again, and then lets sleep pull him under. 

*

It’s the day of Louis’s first photoshoot today and he won’t let Harry come with him. 

“Baby, please,” Harry begs for the seventeenth time in three days. “I want to take sure they’re treating you right on this shoot. If anyone knows a model set, it’s me.”

Louis rolls his eyes in the same way he has every single Harry’s asked to accompany him. “It’s still a no,” he sing-songs, shaking his head. “How would you feel on the first day of your new job if one of the biggest celebrities in the world showed up and claimed to be your boyfriend? Nothing would be more awkward, Harry, and I mean nothing.”

“But I want to be there.” Harry tries to school his face all pouty and cute, hoping it wears Louis down. “I want to be supportive and I want to make sure you’re being treated right, love.”

“Harry, darling,” Louis tuts. “They’re hardly going to bring us all on set and beat us into our modelling poses, are they?”

“Well, no,” Harry admits reluctantly, “But I still want to be there.”

“So you keep saying,” Louis says dryly. “But it’ll be fine, love. I’ll be with Niall anyway, and I know you trust Niall to make sure I’m alright.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” Harry grumbles, but he’s being dramatic and they both know it, so he lets himself be pulled into Louis’s arms and buries his face into Louis’s soft hair. “No, I know, you’re not wrong. It just feels like something I should be coming along to, that’s all.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Louis tells him fondly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “It’ll be _fine_. If I’m being completely honest, my darling, I don’t actually want you there. You’ll make me nervous.”

“That’s not fair,” Harry splutters. “It’s only me, how can I make you nervous?”

Louis levels him with a look. “Because you’re Harry Styles and you’re my boyfriend,” he says like Harry’s stupid. “How am I meant to try and act natural with you staring at me all the time?”

Harry pouts. “I just don’t think I’ll be _that_ distracting but _whatever._ ”

Louis smacks a kiss onto his mouth and pulls away before Harry has the chance to deepen it. “I’m not even willing to take the risk, love.” He nudges Harry away with his shoulder and goes back to the bowl of cereal he was eating. “Now let me eat my breakfast in peace. Niall’s here to pick me up in ten minutes.”

It’s not that Harry’s worried, per se, but he’s certainly glad that Niall’s going with him. He knows better than most that the modelling world can be very dog-eat-dog, and even if it’s only catalogue modelling, it’s still likely to be full of people trying to claw their way to the top. 

The protective part of Harry wants to keep Louis away from that industry, but there’s a bigger part to him that’s so unbelievably _proud_. He obviously thinks that there’s nobody out there more gorgeous than his omega, but he also knows that Louis is the perfect fit within an industry like that, sure and headstrong and not one to suffer fools. Plus, the idea of male omegas being out there in the world of sportswear modeling is exciting, definitely something the industry has been crying out for, and Louis being a pioneer in that is something he should be very proud of indeed.

There’s definitely a part of him that can’t wait to see the pictures triumphantly displayed because he knows that that feeling is second to none. In his humble opinion, Louis’s face is just _made_ for billboards and big screens and should be splashed across every available advertising platform, but he supposes that he’ll probably start smaller than that.

 _Shame_. 

Louis comes back just as Harry’s cooking dinner; nothing fancy, just pasta and meatballs. He looks gorgeous, all made up and his hair sculpted into a quiff, and he bounds over to Harry and kisses him square on the mouth. “Hi.”

“Hi, you. How did it go?” Harry asks, pulling him into his arms. 

Louis pulls a face. “Like… I dunno.”

Harry frowns, waiting for Louis to elaborate but he doesn’t, at least not for a few seconds. “You dunno?”

“It’s… weird,” Louis finally says. “Like, you put on clothes and then you’re just meant to, like, wear them and have your photo taken.”

Harry bursts out laughing. “Wow, babe. Well observed.”

“I mean, it’s _weird,”_ Louis says again. “This one isn’t, like, your level or anything. It’s only gonna be inside a few JD stores. But still, people are gonna see me in these clothes and it might persuade them to buy them or not. _Weird.”_

Harry chuckles and shakes his head fondly. “So would you do it again? If they called you back for another shoot, would you go back?”

“Funny you should say that,” Louis hums. “From the sounds of it, Niall’s already got something lined up for me. Trainer modelling this time.”

“Trainers?” Harry repeats, cocking an eyebrow. “Like foot modelling?”

“Well, my foot will be in the shoe,” Louis tuts. “But yes, essentially foot modelling.” 

Harry has no idea why the idea makes him feel so possessive over Louis’s _feet_ of all things, but here they are. “I love your feet,” he says, then pulls Louis closer. Louis rolls his eyes but Harry isn’t fooled; he can bloody _smell_ him. “Come on. Let’s go celebrate your mega first day, yeah?”

“You are so fucking weird,” Louis grumbles, but lets Harry undo his shoes and cart him off to the bedroom anyway. 

And after that, it seems like Louis has more modelling jobs in the diary than Harry does, which is madness but also super fucking cool. 

His summer schedule fills up relatively quickly after his first campaign goes live. JD Sports calls him back to shoot some winter content where he’s modelling coats and ski apparel as well as some more pieces for their Autumn-Winter Instagram content. 

He comes away from every shoot with purpose, more confident and sure of himself. He’s got a spring in his step and less of a slump in his shoulders, like he feels like he’s got a calling again, and a vocation he’s actually proud of for the first time in his life. When he was applying for his graduate programme, the long days were often tainted by a lot of waiting around and then rejection, but here he’s receiving positive critiques, regular bookings and wider opportunities, which is fucking _awesome._

He’s always taken a lot of pride in his appearance but something he’s been vocal about since the beginning of their relationship was that he didn’t ever feel hot enough to be Harry Styles’s boyfriend but _now_ it’s like he knows he’s hot too. Sure, he tells Harry to fuck off every time he teases him for teasing his hair in the mirror or looking at his reflection in his locked phone screen, but Harry secretly thinks it’s hot as fuck and truthfully he only does it because bickering with Louis is one of his favourite hobbies. 

Harry feels like he’s just becoming prouder and prouder every day, which feels like no mean feat. The Louis now even compared to the one from a few months ago when they first got together, who was often anxious and apprehensive to let Harry know his true feelings or if anything was worrying him, is like a different person, one that Harry can’t wait to see flourish and bloom even more as he progresses. 

And so life goes on, slowly but surely. It’s the most content Harry’s felt in years and he actually wakes up feeling purposeful, fresh and happy these days, something he hasn’t felt for years. He gets to wake up in the morning with the love of his life in his arms and in between date days, dinners out and the domesticity that's become so habitual to them, he’s never felt more content. He’s _happy,_ and blissfully so. It feels like life couldn’t be any better even if he wanted it to.

They take a short trip to the Lake District for a long weekend in August, and then an even longer trip to the States for a couple of weeks in September, before Louis’s doctorate gets fully underway and he’s not able to take time off as readily. They both deserve a holiday and Louis’s never been to America, so Harry takes the liberty of booking them two ridiculously expensive hotels and then calls Niall and gives him two weeks off because this is all about enjoying themselves, not a hint of work in sight. 

It’s so nice to have time off where he’s actually away from his home office, because as much as he loves his home, the temptation to go on Gmail is almost always there when it’s only a room away. But Louis confiscates his work phone before they even get on the plane and _accidentally_ leaves it on their coffee table, so it’s not even an option and he’s really not allowed to do any. 

And it’s exactly the relaxing trip Harry needs.

They start their holiday in LA, where they go for long drives and crank up the music, following the long winding mountain roads for long hours, just singing and talking and laughing. In the evenings they go out for fancy meals and overpriced cocktails and then they go dancing in some of the most exclusive nightclubs, bumping into friends Harry hasn’t seen in months. 

They sleep in and then make love in a ridiculously large bed in the penthouse suite in Harry’s favourite hotel in California. They don’t stop fucking for days on end, which Louis argues feels a bit redundant some days - “we’ve travelled six thousand miles and all you wanna do is knot me, for fuck’s sake, we could do that in London” -but there isn’t much heat behind it. 

He doesn’t _actually_ seem that bothered about it when he’s got Harry’s cock in his arse, that’s for damn sure. 

After LA, they fly up to New York and this time Louis makes it clear on the flight up there that they’re not spending a single day just fucking in the hotel because “It’s New fucking York, Harry. I want to be the biggest tourist in the city and I don’t even care if you come with me.”

Harry goes with him, of course. They become proper tourists as Louis wanted them to - they watch a Broadway show a day and get one dollar pizza slices from street vendors and buy trashy souvenirs to take home to their friends. Harry spends a small fortune in the fashion boutiques and Louis spends a small fortune on some limited edition Adidas items and then they both buy matching love bracelets from the Tiffany store because they’re secretly sappy bastards that _like_ things like that. 

They don’t have sex nearly as much that week because they’re both so tired when they finally get back to their hotel in the evenings, but it doesn’t seem to matter. They’re having fun, being one of those cheesy tourist couples, and Harry wouldn’t change a minute of it for the world. 

When they get back to the UK, they have a couple of days to combat the jetlag and recover from two weeks of non-stop activity and shitty food, and in this time Louis _finally_ lets Harry buy him an iMac in preparation for his PhD. They also order a desk, a chair and a bookcase to fully turn one of the spare rooms into his little study space so he isn’t working off the kitchen table like he was at the beginning. 

By this point, it doesn’t feel like Harry’s flat that Louis has moved into, it feels like _their_ flat. There’s a piece of Louis in every single room, from his nest in the lounge to the Diet Coke shelf in the fridge. There’s even folders with all his paperwork on the shelves in Harry’s office. If Harry thinks about it hard enough, he can almost imagine them getting a cat or a dog, and at some point _way_ in the future, a third member of their little family. 

In fact, everything is going swimmingly until one of Harry’s photoshoots in the early autumn changes everything. 

It’s been a long morning that started when it was still dark outside and Harry’s been running on coffee and pure adrenaline all day. He barely ate any lunch, instead favouring staying on with the photographer to get his solo shots sorted so he could get off early. 

He and Louis are going away for a long weekend the day after tomorrow with Niall and Hailee to a cottage up north for Niall’s birthday. There’s going to be no business talk, no mobile phones, no _thinking_ allowed; just board games, good wine, great food and three of his favourite people. 

Louis had elected not to come to this one, instead favouring staying at home and packing. And that turns out to be just as well, because Oliver fucking Rowe turns out to be another one of the models on set, and Harry can’t be arsed to dig up that old chestnut again. 

Unfortunately Oliver has other ideas. 

He corners Harry just as he’s leaving. He’s just getting himself a coffee for the road from the vending machine in the corner when he hears him clear his throat behind him and he immediately tenses up. 

“Hey, Styles.” Harry spins and doesn’t even try to hide his look of distaste. 

“Hello, Oliver.”

“Rushing off home, are we?” Oliver says in a tone that Harry doesn’t much like. It’s too chirpy and it makes him nervous. “Got someone waiting for us, _have we?”_

“What’s your point?” Harry asks, putting his hands on his hips. The alpha opposite him looks positively delighted. “You know I do.”

“I _do_ know that, and you’ll be pleased to know that a few days ago I _finally_ realised where I knew your little omega friend from,” Oliver drawls, and Harry freezes. 

Oh no, oh no, oh no. 

“And where's that?” he asks slowly, almost proud of himself that his voice doesn’t break. 

“I can tell you but you’re not going to like it,” Oliver says, and he sounds almost gleeful. Harry already feels sick. “I mean, you’re going to know what he used to do for a living, aren’t you?”

Oh no.

“Of course I do,” Harry snaps, turning away and busying himself with packing his bag, because otherwise he might fucking punch him in the face. “He has nothing to be embarrassed about in that regard, so if you try and make it an issue then we’re going to have a problem.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it a problem,” Oliver sing-songs, then reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone. “Not for you anyway. No, my brother, um, _recommended_ him to me, you see, after they’d shared a rut together. He found your omega on that website you probably found him on.”

“It’s literally none of your business how Louis and I found each other,” Harry hisses. 

“I thought it wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about,” Oliver repeats in a poor imitation of Harry’s accent and tone. “Listen, I haven’t fucked your omega, if that’s what you’re worried about. My brother has, though, and he thoroughly enjoyed himself. Enough to recommend him to me and the rest of the boys afterwards, you know, if we ever needed such a service.”

“That’s kind of fucked up,” Harry says, a little horrified. “You sleeping with the same person as your brother and all your friends. Fucking weird, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask your opinion on it,” Oliver says haughtily. “I’m merely telling you that if you did wonder why I recognised him the first time we met, it’s because a picture of him was passed around all the boys because he was such a great shag. Soft and kind of pretty too.”

Harry’s hands _hurt_ from how tightly they’re balled up into fists. “What are you doing?” he asks through gritted teeth. “What are you doing, bringing this up to me? Why does it matter all of a sudden?”

“It doesn’t,” Oliver says, pretending to examine his nails. “Not really. I just think it would be quite interesting if, you know, when you two are public with your relationship, everything about it is public, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not embarrassed of Louis’s past and neither is he,” Harry says hotly. “If you think we hadn’t thought about making that knowledge public to avoid anything… untoward being said about him afterwards then you’re a fucking idiot, just like I’ve always thought.”

Oliver’s face darkens. “There’s no need to be so rude, Styles. I don’t see what I’ve said that warrants this tone from you, _honestly.”_

“You’re making comments about people sleeping with my omega that you know will fucking wind me up.”

“I thought you weren’t embarrassed,” Oliver repeats in that same shitty imitation of Harry’s voice. “Honestly, mate, I’m getting _very_ conflicting information from you.”

Harry zips his bag up and swings it over his shoulder. “Keep Louis out of your mouth and delete that fucking photo off your phone.” 

“Okay, whatever you want.” Oliver sighs, dramatic and over-exaggerated. “But if you’re going to throw teddy out the pram and be a dick about it all, maybe you should consider letting the world know before someone else does.”

Harry growls, can’t help it. It’s unprofessional and absolutely will not help the situation but he can’t help it. This is _Louis,_ for fuck’s sake. “I thought I told you to keep his name out your fucking mouth.”

“My mouth, maybe,” Oliver says slowly, voice going low and equally as alpha. “But if I mention what I know to my brother and the group of lads, and one of _them_ does it…”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Harry says dangerously, stepping into Oliver’s space, eyes like daggers. He feels _sick._ “It’s absolutely not your fucking right to do anything of the sort.”

“It is my right if it takes the wonderful, illustrious Harry Styles down a peg or two,” Oliver hisses. “Fucking perfect alpha pop star turned model turned actor, getting every role and shoot and everything he wants. Everything fucking perfect except the fact that his precious omega used to be a rentboy, but would you believe it? They fell in love and now he’s also a perfect little specimen, training to be a doctor or whatever while leaving his tragic past behind.”

“You know nothing about either of us,” Harry snaps, taking a step back in horror. He’s never fucking liked Oliver, he knows that much, but for him to be so fucking _cruel_ is totally unexpected. “What the fuck, Oliver? Why are you doing this?”

“No reason, really,” Oliver shrugs. “I just think, like, other people should get the opportunities you keep fucking stealing from right under our noses, and if you need a little… how shall we say, _persuasion?”_

“Whatever you fucking want from me, you can have,” Harry says hotly. “But you leave Louis out of this. He’s done nothing to you and it stays that way.”

“So if, perhaps, we don’t work on the same shoots ever again, even if that means you miss out on some incredible work…”

“I’m about to drop my second album,” Harry cuts in. “I’ve got two movies lined up in Hollywood for the next eighteen months and I’m also halfway through an investment deal that will make me more money than you could ever dream of. These jobs are great, sure, but it’s more of a hobby.” 

He’s only partly exaggerating, of course. He loves modelling and fashion and everything about this line of work, but not at the expense of Louis. He doesn’t love anything as much as he loves Louis. 

Oliver’s expression remains steely. “So we’re in agreement then.”

Harry nods tightly, then spins on his heels and for the door. “I leave you alone, you leave me alone. I’ll do as you say but let it be known now that if I read _anything_ in any media about my boyfriend or our relationship before we share it ourselves, my lawyers will be all over you. I don’t care if it even is you or not by that point. It’ll be _your_ problem.”

“Is that a fucking threat?” Oliver asks coldly. 

“No more of a threat than the one you just gave me,” Harry retorts. His heart is fucking _pounding_ against his rib cage and he needs to get out of here right fucking now. “Have a nice life, Oliver.”

He stalks out of there and slams the door behind him, rushing through the hallways and towards the exit so he can get the fuck out of there. 

Once he’s in his car, he lets out a frustrated, aggressive scream that he fucking hopes nobody else in the car park can hear. He’s so fucking angry he’s shaking, so much so that he probably shouldn’t drive, but he needs to get out of there. 

He fumbles with his keys but finally gets the car started, then he uses his handsfree to make a desperate phone call. 

“Hello?”

“I’m going to fucking _scream_ ,” Harry yells, almost stalling the car as he gets to the car park exit. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry in his _life._ “I’m going to commit a crime, a murder. Would you still love me and stand up for me in court if I murdered somebody?”

“Depends who it was,” is Niall’s very diplomatic answer on the other end of the phone. “Jesus, H, what’s happening? You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I haven’t cried yet but I think I might,” Harry answers honestly. “Ni, I need you to do something for me. You at your desk?”

“Yeah, course,” Niall says. “Fucking hell, mate. What’s happened?”

Harry manages to ramble off a whole summary of the events without crashing his car or threatening to murder Oliver again, which he thinks is a win, and by the end of it Niall is just as angry as he is, calling Oliver every name under the sun and talking so fast that Harry can hardly make out his accent anymore. 

“Stupid inconsiderate ugly fucking prick,” Niall shouts. “Jesus fucking Christ, Harry. What the actual fucking hell is his problem?”

“I know,” Harry says hoarsely. He pulls to a stop at some traffic lights and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes, tears threatening to fall now he’s far enough away from the scene. “I know. So, like, can you do a favour and cancel any upcoming campaign shoots I might have with him?”

“Haz, you have another day at this shoot scheduled for tomorrow,” Niall tells him gently. _Shit._ “Do you want to still… do you want to go back?”

“No,” Harry croaks, hurrying to wipe away some more tears. “No, I do not. Tell them…” He swallows, scared that talking is just going to make him cry more. “Tell them I started my rut or something. I don’t care. I’m not going back.”

“Harry…”

“Niall, would you go back? If it were you and someone was threatening Hailee, would you go back?”

“No.” Niall lets out a long, heavy sigh. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t.”

“I feel sick,” Harry tells him, taking a few shaky, deep breaths. “I never want to see him again, Ni, so cancel it. I’m in rut, my boyfriend’s in heat, I don’t care what excuse you use. I’m not going back.”

“Yeah, I’ll make an excuse,” Niall says. “Where are you now? Nearly home?”

“Just at the bridge,” Harry tells him. “Five minutes away. I’m not…” He pauses, unsure of what he’s trying to say. “I’m not embarrassed, Niall. Of Louis’s past. I love him and everything that’s come before me is, like, the past. I don’t care.” He swallows audibly. “But I am aware it might be a bit of a PR nightmare when the time comes.”

“Fuck that,” Niall snaps. “It’ll only be a PR nightmare if we treat it like it’s going to be one, which I have _absolutely_ no intention of doing. No, we put out an announcement when you’re ready, we mention it in the second-to-last paragraph or something that that’s how you met, and you call it a day. No further comments because who cares?”

Harry _adores_ Niall. 

“I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you, you know,” he tells him, voice close to cracking again. “Sorry to dump all this shit on you on a Tuesday afternoon.”

Niall snorts. “Hey, remember when that prick Lewis Parsons made fun of my accent in Year 8 and you punched him?” Harry chuckles. “Well, you know. Consider this the same type of shit, just a few years on. I’ve always got your back, H.”

“So have I,” Harry says. He thinks he might cry again. “Thanks Ni, for doing all this.”

“If you want me to, I’ll cancel all your appointments for the rest of the week?” Niall offers. “We’ve got that shoot tomorrow that’s fucking going to be cancelled, then some meetings with the team Thursday morning and then a lunch meeting with Simon on Friday?”

Harry shakes his head even though Niall can’t see him. “Nah, just tomorrow is fine,” he assures him. “Just… make sure to check if I've got any other modelling campaigns coming up in the next few months, check if Oliver Rowe is booked on. If he is, politely decline. If he isn’t, keep me on.” He thinks for a second. “Actually, no fucking way am I giving up Gucci. He’s never modelled for them, so can you ask Alessandro to make sure he’s not on any further bookings or even brought forward for consideration?”

“That’s the fucking spirit,” Niall cheers. “Absolutely, pal. Consider it done.”

“Love you,” Harry tells him, finally cracking a smile. “I’m just pulling up to home now so I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Text me if you need me for anything.”

Niall says his goodbyes and hangs up as Harry pulls up into his garage. He puts the car in park and undoes his seatbelt, but then catches sight of his reflection in his mirror and balks. He looks a fucking mess—his kohl-rimmed eyes have smudged so he looks a bit like the Joker, his hair looks greasy and all over the place, and he looks older in his dejectiveness: furious and angry and drained by it all, and it’s been less than an hour since it happened. 

He needs Louis. 

He scrabbles out the car and heads up to his flat in the lift, using a spit-damp thumb to try and wipe away some of the black smudging around his eyes. He needs a proper shower, he knows, but this will have to do for now. 

He finds Louis in the kitchen, tapping away at his laptop with a steaming mug of tea next to him. Like always, his face lights up when he sees Harry, his smile so wide that his eyes crinkle at the corners, but that fades away the second he twigs that Harry is not, in fact, alright. He’s on his feet in a second. 

“Harry?”

The dam finally breaks. 

Harry bursts into tears. 

“Oh my god,” Louis flaps, taking his face between his hands and cradling it into his shoulder as Harry’s arms fly around Louis’s middle, drawing him into him as close as he physically can. “Harry, darling, love, what the…”

Harry cries harder and draws Louis in for a hug that’s so tight he wonders if it hurts, but Louis doesn’t protest. He tucks his face away and weeps into Louis’s jumper, a jumper that was once his but now smells completely and wholly of the person he loves most. 

Now he’s here, now he has his omega is his arms and they’re together in their shared home, he feels way more grounded and safe, but he’s still so fucking _angry_. Humiliation and rage are seeping through him and expelling themselves in the form of heaving, uncontrollable sobs.

He isn’t sure how long he stands there and cries but he knows it’s longer than he’s cried in a long time and definitely more than he’s ever cried in front of Louis. 

“Harry, sweetheart,” Louis coos, then he starts pressing soft, delicate kisses to Harry’s damp cheeks that only serve to make him cry even harder. He doesn’t feel like he deserves someone like Louis, and yet Louis is the one that’ll be hurt the hardest in all this, and for no reason other than he fell in love with Harry. “Darling, my lovely Harry, talk to me.” He pulls back ever so slightly so he can rest their foreheads together. “Talk to me darling, I’m so worried.”

Harry can’t talk to him, not right now. He pulls him in tighter and buries his face into Louis’s soft hair. “Just… sorry. Just let me hold you a minute.”

“Yeah, alright. Fucking worry me more, dickhead,” Louis grumbles, but he obediently snuggles closer to him, sliding a cool hand under his jumper, rubbing his hand over the small of Harry’s back. “Do you at least want to sit down?”

They’re going to have to have the conversation sooner or later. Might as well rip the bandaid off now. 

“Yeah, alright.” Harry kisses the top of his head and moves back just enough to stare at him, just for a second. “I love you more than anything, you know.”

Louis opens his mouth, presumably to answer, but he stops himself at the last second. “I know,” he answers, hand coming up to cup Harry’s cheek. “I know that. And I love you too.” 

Harry swallows audibly. “Do you… want a cuppa?”

“Harry.” Louis levels him with a look. “I don’t want a fucking cuppa. I want to know why my boyfriend has come home a fucking sobbing wreck and is acting all fucking weird, that’s what I want.”

“Yeah, fair enough.” Harry almost laughs at the absurdity of it all. “Okay. Let’s go and sit down.”

Louis kisses his hand and tugs him towards the sofa where, once Harry’s sat down, he climbs back into his lap. “Right.” He slaps his hands on both of Harry’s cheeks and stares right in his eyes, wiping at the inevitable eyeliner that’s probably all over his face at this point. “Talk to me.”

Harry takes a long, deep breath. “I’m being… Well, I guess the best word for what it is is blackmailed?”

Louis’s eyes go almost comically wide. “Excuse _me?”_

Harry almost wants to cry again. “Blackmailed,” he repeats. “By some piece of shit I’ve worked on a couple of shoots with.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Louis has a face like thunder, cheeks pink and fists tight in the front of Harry’s shirt. If this was a cartoon, he’d probably have steam coming out of his ears. “Who is he? Who the fuck thinks they can blackmail you? You’re Harry fucking Styles, for the love of fucking god. How _dare he?_ How dare he? How is this even a question, the fucking cunt…”

“Louis,” Harry interrupts. “What he’s blackmailing me with is _you.”_

“What the _fuck?_ ” Louis yells even louder. “Me? How can he possibly…” Then, just as quickly as he’d gotten angry, he goes quiet, eyes filling with tears. “Oh my god. He knows, doesn’t he? He fucking knows?” 

Harry nods. “I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so fucking sorry…”

“Did I… sleep with him?” Louis looks horrified, his little hand pressed firmly over his mouth. “It’s me who should be sorry, holy shit.”

“You didn’t sleep with him,” Harry’s quick to assure him. “Here, just… please don’t cry, baby. It’s nothing to feel guilty about, do you hear me?”

Louis whimpers but he nods. He’s shaking like a leaf. “But if I didn’t sleep with him, how did he know?”

Harry starts from the beginning, explaining his relationship with Oliver from when they’d first met all the way up to today’s events. He reminds Louis which one Oliver was, how he was the one who caused that bloody awful fight back at the start of their relationship, and how he’s always been rude and quite distant and cold towards him.

“Anyway, it turns out it was his brother who…” Harry trails off. He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to put it out there any more than it has to be. “And he was a nasty prick who’d shared round a picture of you to their group chat and talked about how great of a service it was.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis grumbles. He sounds more dejected than Harry’s ever heard him. “You know, part of me has always wondered if that kind of thing actually happened.” He curls himself up even closer to Harry, head resting on his shoulder. “I don’t feel any better for knowing it does.”

“It’s fucking dickhead behaviour,” Harry spits. “That’s one of the things that’s made me the most upset about the whole thing. The way he… he acted like he knew something about us because he knew how we’d met. How he felt able to comment on it at all.”

“Well,” Louis hiccups. “He’s not wrong, if we’re being honest. We both got into this knowing that it might end in tears.”

“No.” Harry shakes his head. “I got into this knowing I was ready to fall in love.” He stares at Louis for a careful moment. “I’m not going to apologise for finding someone that makes me happy.”

“You’re telling me you don’t care about the media storm if you come out with someone who several people will be able to identify as a former O-For-Hire?” Louis asks dryly, sounding a lot like he doesn’t believe him. “Really?”

Harry shrugs. “I think… maybe I would have done a couple months ago when things were new between us and if we’d have broken up it wouldn’t have been worth the storm. But now?” 

He cups Louis’s face back in his hands and stares at him, and Louis stares right back, and he gulps. “I always wanted to be one of those people that didn’t care what people thought about them, right? And over time I’ve worked on that. I’ve worked on my image and my fashion and my music style and went from being that weird sixteen year old kid that everyone knew from The X-Factor who immediately turned to modelling and acting to, like, I think an artist and creator in my own right.”

Louis nods. “You have,” he agrees, smiling at him with shiny eyes. _With pride_ , Harry hopes. “You’re so amazing, Harry, which is why I struggle to understand why you’ve settled for me sometimes.”

“I have _not_ settled,” Harry tells him firmly. “You can’t _settle_ for your soulmate and anyway, my point in all this is that I love you, Louis, so much that it hurts me sometimes. I look at you across rooms and my heart hurts because I love you so much. I think about where I see myself in two, five, ten, _fifty_ years from now and you’re at the forefront of every scenario.” He feels himself getting choked up again. “That’s what matters to me. A campaign with some magazine? Not essential to my future but you? You _are_ my future. _”_

“You’re killing me,” Louis sobs, grabbing one of Harry’s necklaces and tugging him down so he can smash their lips together in a messy, burning kiss. Harry goes easily and they kiss for a long time, long enough for Harry to forget for a good while what he was so upset about in their first place. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to hold Louis close enough. He’s feeling super sappy and super emotional about it all—it’s a ridiculous situation they both find themselves in and he knows it, but he needs Louis to understand what he’s feeling. 

_I love you._

_You’re worth it for me._

_You’re worth everything to me._

Louis suddenly breaks the kiss, eyes wide. “So wait a moment. Is this you saying… you want to go public?”

Harry shrugs. “I didn’t think we were really hiding, to be honest. I just know that I wasn’t going to let some stupid prick take that from us. We’re going public on our terms or not at all.”

“And what…” Louis looks nervous, biting on his bottom lip. “What do we say about… you know?”

“I’ve discussed it a bit with Niall,” Harry murmurs, using his thumb to try and smooth some of the worry lines from Louis’s face. “We’ll mention how we met in the PR statement, but we’ll barely make note of it. That way, the information we’re willing to give out is out there, and if anyone else says anything then that’s their problem, not ours.”

Louis nods, just once, and then his face crumples up again, fresh tears threatening to spill again. “I’m still so scared,” he mumbles, his voice cracking. “So, so scared, Harry.”

Today has been a total emotional car crash for both of them, but this is what breaks Harry’s heart the most. “I’ll protect you,” he promises, over and over again. “Nothing bad will happen and if it does, like, if a journalist is super awful or whatever, I’ll get lawyers on it to take it down. I don’t care anymore.”

“Waste of money,” Louis mumbles, then uses the bottom of Harry’s shirt to wipe his eyes.

“Not as far as I’m concerned,” Harry tells him. “But again, if you’re not ready to go public we don’t have to. We can take it one step at a time.” He brushes some stray tears from Louis’s cheeks. “We don’t have to do it just because of Oliver fucking Rowe.”

Louis nods and then leans into Harry so he can sit up easier. “God,” he mutters, then tilts his head for another kiss. “I wasn’t expecting to cry this much today, I’ll tell you that much.” 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says again. “I really am. The last thing I wanted to do was cause all this. I wanted to come home and have a lovely, chilled out evening with my boyfriend where we are some Thai food, did some yoga and then maybe had a bath together.”

“We still could,” Louis mumbles, sitting up taller. “We could order from that place you like, the one that has the really crunchy seaweed?”

“Yeah?” Harry loves that place, but Louis prefers another so they often order from there instead. “And you’ll do yoga with me while it’s on its way?”

“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far,” Louis says, and he finally smiles. “But I’ll share a bath with you, as long as you don’t smell too much like garlic.”

“Sounds a fair deal,” Harry agrees, then leans down to kiss him so they can get a good amount of snogging in before they both smell like garlic. 

They don’t talk about it anymore because it’s exhausting and there isn’t much more they can say that hasn’t already been said. Instead, they order an unnecessary amount of food and make out on the sofa until it arrives, then instead of doing yoga (because they were never going to do yoga after a conversation like that) Harry runs them a warm, luxurious bath that they soak in for a long time, Louis pressed against Harry’s chest so they can kiss on occasion even though they both definitely smell like garlic. 

“Your breath is horrendous,” Louis tells him as he leans back against Harry’s shoulder, winding his arm up and around Harry’s neck so he can pull them closer. “I should have made you brush your teeth before getting in here with me.”

Harry noses at his temple and kisses his cheek. “Could say the same for you, garlic boy.”

Louis chuckles a breathy laugh, tilts his head back and kisses Harry’s jaw. “Couple of garlic boys together then.” 

Harry hums happily. “Are you happy, baby?”

Louis snorts, craning his neck to look at him, his eyes full of mirth . “What, in general? Or right now?”

“Well, in general.” Harry presses his lips to Louis’s wet forehead. “Today isn’t a good example of the best days we’ve ever had together, but in general.”

“Harry, you don’t have to worry that I’m not happy,” Louis murmurs. “Like the problems we have together aren't nearly as shitty as the problems I had a few years ago.” He adopts a truly terrible imitation of Harry’s slow Northern drawl for the next bit. “Oh, Louweh, are you sad living in this five bedroom penthouse apartment that overlooks the Thames? Is it difficult getting knotted by me every night because my dick is too big?”

Harry honks a ridiculous laugh that’s so loud, it practically echoes off the tall bathroom ceilings, which in turn makes Louis dissolve into a fit of giggles. Water splashes over the sides of the tub but they barely even notice. 

“I don’t sound like that,” Harry finally says with a pout. “But I see your point. Happy?”

“Happy,” Louis nods, then kisses him deeply. “Come on, let’s get out of here and go to bed. It’s been the shittiest day and you look knackered.”

“Thank you,” Harry tuts, but he patiently waits for Louis to pull himself up and out of the bath before he follows behind. Louis plucks a towel down from the heated shelf, but instead of wrapping it around himself, he moves forward and wraps it around Harry instead. 

“Let me look after you, get you ready for bed,” Louis whispers, gently kissing the centre of his chest, between his bird tattoos. Harry nods. “Come on, love.”

Louis is lovely when he’s like this, soft and warm and with his fresh scent radiating all around them as he carefully dries Harry off and then rubs lotion into his skin. After that, he makes a show of drying himself off for Harry’s benefit, then they fall into bed together, naked and pressed close, kissing, touching, _holding._

Once they’ve both come down from their highs, Louis mops them both down with a baby wipe from the packet in their bedside drawer, then draws him in for another kiss. 

“I love you, Harry,” he tells him. It’s not often Louis looks this serious, but his face and tone are schooled in a different way than usual, like he isn’t just saying it as their usual bedtime declarations. He wants Harry to know and understand, and honestly Harry couldn’t love or appreciate him more than he does in that moment. 

“I love you too,” he croaks, voice on the edge of cracking. “I love you more than anything, my darling.”

Louis kisses him soundly and pulls his arm over his middle, settling against his chest before his breathing evens out and he feels into an easy sleep. He’s always been one to fall asleep quickly, which is something Harry envies; after days like today, he’ll be lucky to drop off at all. 

He can’t help but take a moment to mourn the loss of this part of his career. It won’t be all his jobs, of course, but it’s enough that his heart breaks a little just thinking about it. He’ll have to check with Niall in the morning just how many, but it’s kind of irrelevant to him at this point. It’s more that this bloke has wormed his way into Harry’s life, both professional and personal, and made a threat against the person he loves the most. 

It’s miserable and horrible and _humiliating._

Harry wonders idly if he’s going to ruin their weekend away too, because they’d all sworn not to talk about work but now all Harry wants to do is rant about the fucking cunt that’s ruining his career. 

But then again, Niall is his best friend first and his manager second, so it’s kind of unavoidable that it’ll come up. If anything, Niall will probably bring it up first because he’ll inevitably have done some digging into Oliver and found some dirt to _accidentally_ expose. 

_Whatever._ He wants to be excited for the time away with his boyfriend and friends and anyway, what’s done is done. The thing that matters most is the omega in his arms right here, and even though they will need to discuss going public at some point, he doesn’t want to cause Louis anymore upset than today already has. 

That’s another problem for another day. Right now all that matters is the two of them, pressed together in their bed and irreparably in love. 

*

Life has been a complete whirlwind lately and that’s usually something Harry thrives off of. He loves keeping busy and keeping his mind active and his calendar full, and even though he’s lost a bit of work after the whole Oliver fiasco, he’s still plenty busy.

It’s almost ironic, in a way, that Harry forgetting his rut is what brought them together and then Louis randomly going into heat brings them closer, but Harry’s so distracted that he’s not really thinking about the irony, not when Louis smells _this_ good. 

Deep down, he thinks they both knew there was the possibility of this happening but neither of them wanted to think about it. Harry _hates_ thinking about Louis spending heats by himself and he hates the fact that he was on such an aggressive method of birth control, while Louis doesn’t seem to have put much thought into it because this time he doesn’t have to. He’s no longer got to worry about it affecting work and he’s got an alpha to spend it with, so they’re both kind of just waiting for it to happen. 

But when they’re in the car, making the tedious drive home from Manchester back to London after a day of business meetings in the midst of a rain storm and it starts, it takes them both by surprise. 

Harry stalls the car the moment he smells it. It’s thick, heady and light and it smells _divine,_ both familiar and brand new at once. “Baby…”

“Oh my god,” Louis moans, letting his head lull back and smack against the headrest. “No, no, no, you weren’t supposed to notice this soon! Not here, not now, this can’t be happening…”

A car horn honks behind them and Harry fumbles to start the car up again, nudging them forward a few metres in this tediously slow traffic before he slams the brakes again. “Baby, is this just starting? You smell, like, into it.”

“Um.” Louis laughs nervously. “I’ve felt it coming on for a couple of hours but I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Shit,” Harry mumbles, his eyes going wide. If he’s felt it coming on for a couple of hours they probably won’t have long before it kicks in at full force, and they’ve still got over an hour in gridlock traffic on the motorway to go. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Louis pulls a face at him. “And have us stay in some random overpriced hotel halfway to home? I do not think so, stud.”

“ _Louis,”_ Harry snaps. “It’s better than having you clambour into my lap and try and sit on my dick on the M25.”

“ _Well_ ,” Louis snaps back, then sighs. “Okay, fair enough. _Maybe_ I didn’t think this through.” Harry inches the car forward a few more metres and grumbles something about _how he’s the one who has to think of everything all the time_ , and when he turns back to Louis he’s pouting, eyes big and round and shiny. “Maybe… okay, I give up. I just wanted my first heat with you to be special, you know? In our bed, one that _smells_ like _you,_ the love of my life...”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Liar. You couldn’t care less where I dick you down.”

“Okay, fine,” Louis sulks, slumping in his seat. “The truth is, I didn’t even know I was due to start my heat now, alright? Happy?”

“Huh?” Harry stalls the _fucking car again._ “What? You didn’t know?”

“Look here, you alpha asshole.” Louis glares at him. “I’m going through a change here, in case you hadn’t noticed. I’m trying to do a PhD, figure out a new career I hadn’t considered before I started dating someone for the first time ever _who,_ by the way, is one of the most famous people in the Western world, _and_ probably my future bond mate, so yeah. Forgive me for forgetting to check my phone notes for when my next heat is due to be.” 

Harry slams on the breaks, his stress and worry suddenly depleting ten fold. Louis called him his _future bond mate._

“Bond mate?” he asks, voice too loud for the little car. “ _Bond mate_?”

“Don’t be fucking thick, Harry,” Louis snarls. “Of course you're going to be my bond mate. You think I’d be like this for anyone else?”

“Well, I don't know,” Harry shouts back. “All I know is that I want to bond with you too.”

“Well, fantastic.” Louis throws his hands in the air. “Glad you’ve worked out that this works both ways.” He slumps in his seat. “God, I want to kiss your stupid face. I literally… I fucking _hate_ that I’m so weak for you and actually really fucking want to be spending our first heat together in our bed with you.”

There’s a junction coming up ahead. Harry has no idea where it leads or if it’ll take any time off their journey, but if he spends any longer waiting in this stand-still traffic with Louis smelling the way that he does, then he will end up pulling over into the hard shoulder and fucking him senseless on the back seat of his Range Rover. 

He really doesn’t want to do that. He has no idea whether it’ll be easy or not to get slick stains out of the interior, and anyway, he’s feeling just as sappy about the idea of spending Louis’s heat together in their bed, just the two of them shut away from the rest of the world. 

“Same,” he says, reaching over and taking Louis’s hand before he spins the steering wheel and takes them out of the motorway. “I want that too. And ask and you shall receive.”

“Harry, what the fuck?” Louis screeches, ripping his hand out of Harry’s so he can punch him on the arm. “Where the fuck are we going?”

“Home, to our bed, so we can spend your heat together in the way we bloody well should,” Harry tells him firmly. Now they’re off the motorway and there’s a lot less traffic around them he puts his foot down, definitely going too fast for the weather outside and the fact that he doesn’t really know where they’re going, but whatever. If he gets a fine he’ll pay it ten times over if he has to. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Louis snaps at him, but when Harry spares him a quick glance when they stop at some traffic lights he’s grinning. He takes his hand again. “But you look hot when you drive like that and you’ve also got a big dick and a wicked tongue and I love you more than anything for it all, so I suppose I should appreciate it.”

Harry leans forward to kiss Louis’s knuckles, taking great care to pull back because Louis _smells so fucking good._ Every fibre of his body is telling him to pull Louis into his lap right here, right now, but he _can’t,_ so he resigns himself to holding his hand lightly over the gearstick as they navigate these new roads. 

It doesn’t take long for him to realise that coming off at that junction may not have been his smartest move, perhaps. 

It isn’t any quicker, not by a long shot. They have to reset the sat nav three times because it’s all country roads and villages and farm land and Harry isn’t exactly the most able to concentrate, not with a warm, truly _divine-smelling_ omega in the passenger seat. 

It takes them two hours to eventually get home and by this point Louis is basically in full heat, whining and crying and pleading with Harry desperately. 

“I need… _Harry…_ please,” he sobs brokenly, his body quivering as he tries to climb into Harry’s lap the second he’s parked their car. “Please, please, I need…”

Harry doesn’t think he’s a weak man, but he could make an exception to that at this moment. They’re parked in their private garage that double locks from the outside, and there’s a private elevator that takes them straight up to their penthouse apartment. Nobody else can get in or out, so they’d be safe but…

But Louis deserves better than that. 

And also post-heat Louise would never forgive him for knotting him in the front seat of their Range Rover, even if it’s what he wants now. 

“Baby,” he says, tone edging on his alpha voice. “Baby, I’m gonna give it to you, I promise. _Baby.”_ He grabs both of Louis’s wrists, stopping him from literally ripping his shirt open. “Louis. Put your arms around my neck.”

Louis whimpers but lets himself be manoeuvred into Harry’s arms, so he can carry him upstairs like a baby. Harry slides his hand under Louis’s arse to support him properly and almost moans out loud at how wet he is already, but he has to focus. There’s just one short elevator ride between them and their apartment, their bed, everything they need right now, so Harry bites his lip and moves. 

Their luggage is long forgotten as Harry scrabbles to lock the car one-handed. Louis is quite literally sobbing into his neck while he tries to hump Harry’s hand and he smells quite possibly the best he ever has. Harry’s halfway to hard in his jeans just from the smell of him, so he makes quick work of using his thumbprint to unlock the lift door, yelping as Louis starts kissing up his neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin there. 

Once they’re inside the lift and the doors slide shut behind them, Harry slams Louis’s back against the mirrored wall and kisses him like he’s wanted to for the last two hours. Louis can barely kiss back but he grips at Harry tighter, writhing as Harry pulls back and rests their sweaty foreheads together. 

“I love you so much,” Harry tells him, voice hoarse. “Louis, hey. I love you.”

“Love… you…” Louis sniffs, shaking his head wildly. “Please, _please.”_

“We’re home, baby,” Harry promises him as the lift doors open and he stumbles out and into the hallway, rushing down the corridor and towards the front door. He reluctantly sets Louis down but he keeps a tight arm around his shoulders so he stays upright, wrestling the key into the lock. “Just a few seconds, it’s alright, we’re here now…”

They finally get inside and the second the door is locked behind them Harry grabs Louis once again and carries him straight down to their bedroom, tossing him onto the bed and practically ripping the shirt from his body in one quick motion. Louis is completely gone now, limp and pliant in his arms like a fucking rag doll, and Harry feels a huge wave of affection wash over him. This is his omega, the love of his whole fucking _life,_ and he’s relying on Harry to protect him and help him through his time when he’s at his most vulnerable. 

He wrestles Louis’s shoes off and then moves to take off his trousers and boxers, gasping as he sees just how wet and slick he is underneath him. The smell of Louis in heat is unbelievable and he has to force himself not just bury his face straight in between his legs, even though that’s what his alpha desperately wants, but he refrains and makes quick work of removing his own clothes. 

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis begs, his legs thrashing around on the mattress. “Harry, _please.”_

“Just a moment,” Harry grunts, then grabs Louis by the hips and rolls him over onto his stomach, pulling him back towards him so he’s almost folded in half. “God, I fucking love you so much.”

Louis doesn’t reply so much as let out a long, almost animalistic moan as Harry finally pushes his cock inside him. 

He comes almost instantly. 

Harry’s mouth drops open but he doesn’t stop fucking him even as he screams and white ribbons of jizz paint the sheets. He knew Louis was close to the edge but not _this_ close. “Yeah, baby,” he moans. “Come on my cock, good omega, lovely omega…”

“Harry,” Louis sobs. It sounds like the only word he knows anymore. “ _Harry._ ”

“I’ve got you,” Harry murmurs, leaning down and nosing at his neck. He moves one of his hands up to Louis’s shoulder and presses down so he’s shoved into the mattress, face buried in the pillow, so he can’t do anything but take Harry’s big alpha dick. “Yeah, take it. So fucking gorgeous like this.”

He sinks his teeth lightly into the meat of Louis’s shoulder to mark him, _claim_ him, and it’s enough to make Louis come again, wailing Harry’s name once more as his whole body shudders and he makes more of a mess of the sheets beneath him. 

Harry can’t believe how quickly Louis’s little body has—well, maybe _recovered_ isn’t the right word—but how quickly he was able to make him come again after his first orgasm. It’s gorgeous and wonderful and so, so overwhelming to know that Louis is his and this is something he _trusts_ him for. 

He’s completely gone himself, enamoured by the omega in his arms and on his dick, and he feels the base of his dick start to swell up as his knot prepares to pop. 

“‘m gonna knot you,” he pants out as his thrusts get sloppier and he presses himself even closer to Louis so he can feel the plump, swollen base on his rim, a promise of what’s to come. 

Then he comes _again_ , gasping and sobbing as Harry wraps a hand around his little cock and works him through it. He’s sensitive and every tug on his prick seems to make his body shudder even more, and it feels like almost an extension of that third orgasm when his body goes completely taught and then he comes again with a broken moan. 

_Four orgasms._

“Baby,” Harry chokes out, then makes a split second decision and pulls out quickly so he can flip Louis onto his back. Louis mewls in protest but Harry is quick to shove his cock back into Louis’s stretched hole. He really wants to be able to see Louis’s face properly the first time he knots him in heat. 

His knot is swelling again and catching on Louis’s entrance with every thrust and he ducks down to kiss him before he pushes properly inside. Like before, he doesn’t really kiss him back properly, but he wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and knocks their foreheads together. 

“Harry,” he croaks, his voice wobbling. It sounds like he’s saying _I love you._ “Harry.”

Harry’s knot starts to expand fully and with one harsh, desperate thrust he pushes inside Louis’s hole, locking them together before he starts coming. He slumps forward and uses his elbows to keep himself from just pressing all his tired body weight onto the omega’s smaller body, pressing lazy kisses into Louis’s sweaty hair as they both ride their highs. 

Popping his knot inside Louis’s puffy hole triggers orgasm number five and his poor, swollen prick barely spurts any come this time. Harry cradles him close to his chest as he continues to come inside him, hot and intense, and even though they’re literally tied together he feels the need to hold him as tightly as possible. 

There’s so much of Louis’s come underneath their joined bodies and they’re lying right in the centre of it, but Harry doesn’t care. He keeps Louis close as he rolls them onto their sides so they’re more comfortable, grunting as more of his come drips out from Louis’s full hole. 

“Baby,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath in of Louis’s gorgeous scent. He smells a mix of happy and horny, which makes Harry smile even more. “Baby, are you with me?”

Louis nods sleepily into Harry’s chest. His eyes are closed and he looks so _weak,_ but Harry reckons anyone would if they’d just have five orgasms fucked out of them. 

“I love you,” he mumbles, kissing Louis’s forehead. “Sleep now, yeah?”

“Sleep,” Louis repeats with a mumble, nodding weakly. Then he cracks open one eye gingerly. “I love you too.”

Harry keeps smiling as Louis goes lax in his arms and his breathing levels out, his spent little body surrendering to sleep. It’s a testament to how much he trusts Harry that his omega lets him drop off to sleep while Harry is literally still inside him. 

He’s so in love with the man in his arms that he can barely stand it. 

A combination of having intense, animalistic sex coupled with the fact that he’s been awake since 6am and had a four hour drive home means Harry is also tired as fuck, but he knows he won’t be able to sleep just yet. He’s wired with adrenaline and his alpha in him is in full protective mode, unwilling to leave Louis even though on a rational level he knows they’re safe and sound and he’s also desperate for a piss. 

Louis is fast asleep and his body barely even flinches when Harry’s knot goes down enough for him to pull out. Harry rolls him off reluctantly and wiggles out so he can tuck Louis in on his side of the bed, then carefully moves off the bed. 

He pads naked through into the bathroom and has a quick wee, then he tiptoes back into the bedroom. In the pocket of his discarded jeans he finds his phone, then he moves through to the kitchen where he grabs himself a glass of water. 

Once he’s finished his drink he checks that the front door is locked again because his protective alpha senses feel like they’re in overdrive. He hasn’t got a clue what time it is and he’s surprised, almost, when he checks the clock on the oven and it’s nearly midnight. 

He pours another glass of water for himself and drops Niall a quick text to check if he’s awake. He doesn’t get a response for a few minutes and when he does he gets a series of jumbled texts in quick succession, which is a pretty clear sign that he’s either about to fall asleep or he’s just woken up, so to save them faffing around he calls him instead. 

“Hello?” Niall grunts. It even sounds like he’s just woken up. “You alright, mate?”

“Hey, Niall,” Harry murmurs quietly. “I know it’s late and I’m so sorry to be doing this, but I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have any other alternative.”

“Sure, H,” Niall says, suddenly sounding a bit more awake. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, um.” There’s a part of him that doesn’t even want to tell Niall what’s going on, but he really doesn’t have another choice. “Louis went into heat unexpectedly earlier today. His first heat since he swapped to his new birth control so it’s hit him quite hard and, like. I’d planned to go to the supermarket in the morning but I can’t leave him, I just…”

“Say no more,” Niall interrupts. “I’ll do the shop myself and drop it off outside the door. Are you okay for me to do it in the morning too?”

“Yeah, god, don’t do it now,” Harry rushes to say. He doesn’t have a clue what time it is, but it’s definitely late. “Just make sure you get green top milk, yeah? He’ll be dying for a cuppa when he’s lucid enough for one. Oh, and bagels. And low fat cream cheese and smoked bacon and crunchy nut cornflakes. They’re his favourite and I don’t think we have any left. So better make it a big milk.”

“Of course,” Niall says, and Harry can hear the sound of his iPhone keys tapping away, like he’s putting Harry’s list in his phone notes. “And a jumbo pack of Diet Coke, of course. And just general bits and bobs for you to make some proper meals with, yeah?”

“Thanks, Ni.” Harry feels like he can breathe easy again. “Sorry to dump this on you in the middle of the night.”

“It’s no bother,” Niall assures him. “Happy to help.”

“Thanks,” Harry says again. He feels a bit restless. “I, um. Ni?” 

“Yeah, H?”

“I think… soon. Soon we’re gonna, you know. Bond.”

“Oh my god,” Niall squeals, and Harry hears him stamping his feet excitedly like he always does when he’s excited. “Harry, that’s incredible.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Harry can’t help but beam at the empty room in front of him. “Like, he’s in the next room sound asleep and I miss him. I fucking miss him. What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re in love,” Niall singsongs. “And it’s beautiful to see. If anyone deserves it at this point, mate, it’s you.”

“Thanks, mate,” Harry murmurs. “I feel like… it’s nice. I never thought it would happen for me, if I’m honest, and for it to happen like this with Louis is…”

Niall chuckles. “Yeah, yeah, Louis is great. Well, from what I’ve met of him. I need to spend more time with him.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Harry answers. He has a lovely feeling that Niall and Louis will get on like a house on fire when they’ve got the opportunity to spend proper time together. “Thanks again Ni, you’re the absolute best.”

“I know,” Niall chuckles. “It’s no secret you’d be lost without me.” 

Harry laughs and says his goodbyes, keen to let Niall get back to bed if he’s going to wake up early in the morning and do them a favour. He hangs up and then brushes his floppy hair out of his face, taking a moment to just breathe. He has a feeling he isn’t going to get much time to himself for the next couple of days. 

He makes a point to stop by the kitchen and grab two water bottles from the fridge. They haven’t got much in, just a few cans and bottles of various drinks (mostly Louis’s) and a mouldy bowl of grapes, so Harry decides that he’ll order a McDonalds or something for Louis once he’s woken up again, just to get some sustenance in him. 

He wants to keep pacing because he’s antsy, but he also can’t bear to be apart from Louis any longer, even if all he ends up doing is watch him sleep for a bit. So that’s what he does. He shuffles back to the bedroom, sets the bottles of water down on the windowsill, and clambers back into bed. 

Louis is warm beside him, skin pink and there's sweat beading on his forehead. Harry immediately reaches for his phone and cranks up the air con in the room using the app so he doesn’t have to move again, and the fan above their heads whirs into life. He freezes, worried that he’s fucked up and Louis is going to wake up, but he doesn’t. He just twitches in his sleep and rolls closer to Harry, letting out a long, breathy sigh. 

He looks so young and soft when he sleeps. His hair is a mess and he looks like he’s dreaming, face contorted into a frown, but a cute frown, a frown that Harry’s often on the receiving end of. 

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever felt so much love for Louis before as he does in that moment. 

He decides to take the opportunity to sleep, because even though he’s feeling very on edge, the rational part of him knows that they’re locked safely in their home and no harm will come to Louis during this heat. He feels a pang of something he doesn’t recognise shoot into his stomach when he glances at Louis again, wondering about all the heats he’s spent before him with unknown alphas. He’s jealous, of course he is, but he can’t help but wonder if he felt as safe and well cared for as he does with Harry. 

He flicks the lamp off beside him and settles down so he’s spooning Louis from behind, tucking his face into the back of his neck and taking a deep breath. Louis smells like sweat and heat but he can still smell the lingering scent of summer underneath it all, that atypical scent of his omega that’s now his favourite scent of all. 

Harry isn’t sure he truly sleeps so much as dozes off, his mind still going a thousand miles an hour about all things Louis, so when he wakes up it’s with a sharp jerk. 

“ _Fuck_. Lou?”

Louis whimpers above him and he forces his eyes open as the omega starts to claw at his chest, making desperate little sounds as he tries in vain to get Harry’s dick inside him. 

“I need you,” he whines, humping down in Harry’s lap. “Need you, need you, _Harry…”_

Harry growls and flips them over so Louis is on his back, head on Harry’s pillow. He kisses him fiercely, fingers digging into his hips possessively as Louis parts his legs even wider. 

“How are you, baby?” he asks against his lips, sliding one of his hands down so he can feel Louis’s hole, rubbing two fingers against it. He almost can’t get purchase on the rim because of how slick he is, his hole still plenty open from last night. “Fuck, you’re so ready for me, aren’t you?”

“Need you,” Louis whimpers again, hand fisting in the hair at the base of Harry’s neck, tugging sharply. Tears start to gather at the corner of his eyes. “Please, _please…_ ”

“I know, baby, I know.” Harry tries to soothe him with a kiss but Louis can barely kiss back at the point, he’s too far gone. “Here, spread your legs a bit more for me, good darling. You’re such a good boy for me.”

Louis whines again but obediently spreads his legs, and Harry doesn’t waste any more time. He leans back and takes his aching prick in one hand, using Louis’s knee for support, and starts to slowly press inside. 

Louis _loses_ it. 

He’s openly crying as Harry starts to fuck him properly. His prick is hard and curled up towards his stomach but Harry doesn’t even look at it as he leans forward and pistons his hips up sharply, planting his hands either side of Louis’s neck so he can fuck him deeper, slow but always aiming for he knows Louis wants it. 

He feels like he’s in a bit of a trance as he just continues to fuck Louis and coax orgasm after orgasm out of him. Being able to see Louis’s face as he fucks him hard and dirty is something he hadn't quite prepared himself for. He’s already the most beautiful thing Harry’s ever seen but somehow he becomes even more beautiful like this. 

This time around, Harry’s able to coax _six_ orgasms from Louis’s tired little body, and by the end of it Louis’s dick is so pink and sensitive that Harry can’t bear to touch it any more in case he hurts him. The sheets they’re lying on are also truly disgusting, but Harry’s too tired to change them. They’re only going to make them more disgusting anyway. 

After another nap, he gets them both a bowl of cereal each so they can at least eat something, then he sucks Louis off to another orgasm without knotting him, then after another short sleep he rims Louis until he comes _again._

Later, he carries Louis into the bathroom and holds him against his chest in a lovely warm bath, washing his hair and cleaning the sweat from his body and then making sure he brushes his teeth. 

They get back into bed and Harry’s barely back on his side before Louis’s pushing him down and scrabbling into his lap. He takes Harry’s cock in one hand and braces himself on his knees before sinking down slowly, mouth dropping open as he lets out the most gorgeous little breathy moans. 

“It would be nice if you’d warn a guy,” Harry grumbles, but he doesn’t really mean that. He’ll never say no to having Louis sit on his dick, heat or no heat. He brings his hands up to Louis’s waist and squeezes, helping guide him down all the way. 

“Dunno what you expect during a heat, prick,” Louis replies hotly, his words turning into a moan as his arse hits Harry’s balls, completely stuffed full. 

Harry grins up at him and starts moving his hips up as Louis carefully starts to bounce on his cock. 

After a while, he can tell Louis is tiring so he moves to flip him over and fuck him on his back. He drives into him while Louis’s hands claw and scratch at his back, leaving marks that’ll probably be there long after his heat is over. 

With a grunt and a cry, Harry pops his third knot inside Louis’s arse, which makes the omega thrash and sob and come hard between their bodies. They’ve got a bit of a routine for it now, so Harry holds Louis close to him and shifts them up so they’re comfortably against the pillows then kisses him as his knot continues to throb, pumping warm jizz inside Louis. 

Louis kisses his jaw and snuggles down onto Harry’s chest again, letting himself be cradled as they patiently wait for Harry’s knot to go down. He’s almost coherent enough for them to have a bit of conversation, not anything hugely spectacular but he does tell Harry he loves him a few times, which is Harry’s favourite topic anyway. 

Once Harry’s knot finally goes out, his dick slides out of Louis’s hole with a wet _pop._ “Sleep?” he asks Louis softly, who nods sleepily and lets Harry manhandle him onto his side so they can lie together in the spooning position. 

Harry kisses his shoulder as Louis settles comfortably back against his chest, then he reaches behind him and flicks the lamp off so the room plunges into a sleepy darkness. For the first time during this heat, Harry is ready to get some proper rest in and he winds his arms around Louis’s middle, splaying his large hand across the warm skin of Louis’s tummy. 

It occurs to him then. 

One day, not any day soon, of course, but one day, Harry’s going to put a baby in there. They’re going to bond and then Harry’s going to knock him up and they’re going to raise a family together. 

They’re going to have _pups_ together one day, _fuck_. 

He keeps a hand on the soft swell of Louis’s tummy as he drifts off to sleep, warm and firm under his hand. He can’t help but kiss him on the back of the neck, and when his eyes flutter closed all he can think about is how incredible Louis is going to look one day with Harry’s bond mark on his chest, a ring on his fingers, and Harry’s pup in his belly. 

_One day._

He actually gets a full night of sleep that night and when he wakes up in the morning and checks the time, he sees they’ve both slept for a comfortable seven hours, which means that Louis’s heat probably won’t be lasting for much longer. 

He’s scrolling through Twitter when he feels Louis stir beside him, a soft sigh and a groan before he blinks awake and rolls towards Harry, resting a limp hand on his thigh. “Mmmm. Harry.”

“Hi, honey.” Harry locks his phone and drops it on the bedside table, then shuffles down so he can take Louis under his arm properly. “Are you back with me?”

Louis blinks at him sleepily but he nods. “Yeah, think so. Fuck, was I that out of it?”

“Kind of,” Harry admits, kissing his forehead. “But you’re touching my leg rather than my cock so like. I’d say you’re back with me.”

Louis snorts. “Fab. What day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

Louis’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wednesday? Are you sure?”

Harry blinks. “Um, yes?”

“So…” Louis trails off and frowns for a second, nose scrunching up in that adorable way Harry just loves. “It was just two days?”

“Yeah, just under,” Harry says. “Why? Is that good for a heat with an alpha?”

Louis chuckles nervously. “Well, it’s the shortest heat I’ve ever had.” He swallows audibly. “As for if it’s good for a heat with another alpha, I wouldn’t know.”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to frown. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Do you not usually time it?”

“No,” Louis says slowly, blushing. “I mean, like. I wouldn’t know because I’ve never spent a heat with another person before.”

Harry’s eyes go almost comically wide and the noise he makes is ugly, not like any noise he thinks he’s made before. “Huh?”

“I mean, like, I’ve never been with another alpha during a heat,” Louis says again, his skin red and warm in Harry’s grip. 

Harry doesn’t understand. That can’t be right. “But… huh?”

Louis makes a weird, frustrated sort of a sound, glaring at Harry like he’s a stupid idiot. “I always… I used to have a lot of sex that wasn’t meaningful, you know? So for the sex I wanted to have that was _me_ being desperate and whatever, I didn’t want to have that with just anyone. I wanted to… to save that for the person I might… you know, the person I might bond with.”

_Fuck._

Harry forgets how to speak for a second. 

Louis hasn’t done that with anyone but him. He’s never given himself to anyone in the way he gave himself to Harry and he let Harry see him at his most vulnerable, no questions asked. 

He’s never done that with anyone but Harry. 

And he didn’t want to do it with just anyone. 

The person he wants to bond with. 

He wants to bond with Harry. 

They’re going to _bond._

He’s so wrapped up in just the thought,they’re going to _bond—_ that he doesn’t register that he hasn’t said anything yet until Louis slaps him. 

“Well, say something, you fucking useless _lump.”_

“I wanna bond with you too,” Harry says, then rolls Louis onto his back so he’s hovering over him, boxing him in between his legs. “I want to bond with you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole entire life.”

Louis softens in his hold, then suddenly there’s arms around Harry’s neck, pulling him in for a sharp, passionate kiss that makes Harry’s head spin. 

He’s kissing the only person he’s going to kiss for the rest of his life. _Fuck._

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mumbles against Louis’s lips. He slides his hand down to cup the back of his neck, gripping possessively. This is _his_ omega, the love of his life, and they’re going to spend the rest of their lives together. “I love you so much, you know that, right?”

“Fuck you,” Louis says, pulling back from the kiss so he can glare up at Harry. “I thought I’d gone too far, asshole.”

“Never,” Harry grunts, leaning down so he can pepper soft kisses across Louis’s _gorgeous_ pouting face, down to his jaw and neck. “It’s you and me, yeah? We’re a forever kind of thing.”

“Well,” Louis whines, his voice going all high and breathy like it always does when he’s trying not to be affected by Harry. “I just wanted to check.” He fists his hands in Harry’s hair. “Which apparently involved me admitting my biggest secret to you.”

“Hey,” Harry murmurs, pulling back so he can look at Louis properly, smoothing away his worry lines with his thumb. “You’re the love of my life too, you know. And I love that we’re here now and that… that I’m the first person that gets you like this?” He laughs, not because it’s funny but because he’s so _happy_ he thinks he could burst. “Louis, god. Do you know how special you are?”

“Don’t patronise me,” Louis says dryly, but he pulls Harry down for another kiss. “Absolute arse.”

“Are you ever going to take a compliment?” Harry asks with a shake of his head. 

Louis shrugs like he’s unbothered but Harry can tell by the way that his cheeks go red that the answer is no. “Probably not. I just…” He shrugs again. “It’s a lot to be wanted like you. I think I’ve said that to you before.”

Harry frowns. Louis has indeed said that to him before, but he still isn’t sure _why_. “I’d do anything for you, you know that, right. It’s only ever been you.”

Louis squirms. “Yes, you great stupid alpha. You’ve said this to me a hundred times before and I do believe you, I do.” He pats Harry’s cheek. “But you’re _you_ , yeah? And at the end of the day I’m still this loud, argumentative omega who used to sell his arse for a living.” 

Harry’s mouth drops open and he’s about to argue, but Louis gently pushes it closed. 

“No, let me finish.” 

Something uncomfortable stirs in Harry’s stomach. “Louis…”

“Let me finish,” Louis repeats firmly, shaking his head. “God, such a fucking alpha, has to have the last word in.”

“I love you,” Harry says desperately. 

“I love you too.” Louis groans and pulls Harry in closer. “God, I love you so much. I can't…” He buries his face in Harry’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe I get to do this with you. I can’t believe you picked me.”

“I’d pick you every time,” Harry mumbles, voice muffled by the pillow. 

“Yeah, well,” Louis says, shrugging again. “I think I’ll always feel a bit out of place here, you know? Not with you but… _with you.”_

“Louis, I couldn’t give a shit if you used to ‘sell your arse for a living’,” Harry says, using the hand that isn’t cradling Louis’s head to airquote the last bit. “I couldn’t give a shit if the entire world media slags us off in every paper and on every website. I couldn’t care about anything apart from where you’re at right now, because I have you here _now._ And that’s all I’ll ever care about because we’re like…” He trails off, brushing some of the sweaty hair from Louis’s forehead. “We’re soulmates and I think I’d probably die if I lost you.” 

“Not dramatic at all, are you?” Louis says sarcastically, but he’s smiling. He pats Harry’s cheek. “But I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Harry grins and nips at his neck, grip around his middle tightening. Louis is gloriously naked and he still smells like heat, and he can’t help but focus his attention to that clean, crisp scent he’s come to associate with happiness and home. 

They’re going to _bond._

They spend much of the rest of the morning just kissing, making easy conversation and dozing on and off. They get up around lunchtime and share a shower where Harry washes Louis’s hair and shaves his legs and lathers him with expensive body wash, so he comes out smelling like an intoxicating mix of both of them. He’ll probably have an edge of heat to his scent for a day or two more, and Harry wants to bury his face into his chest and keep it there for as long as he smells like this.

He certainly has no intention of letting him leave the house. 

Louis squeaks delightedly when he sees how much food Niall had dropped over and immediately chugs a can of Diet Coke without stopping for air, letting out the most obnoxious _burp_ that Harry’s ever heard before kissing Harry square on the mouth and murmuring a _thank you_ against his lips.

It’s disgusting and domestic and sappy and Harry can’t wait to have this for the rest of his life. 

And if he spends the rest of the afternoon on the sofa with Louis’s head in his lap as they watch some Netflix while he Googles _romantic ways to ask your omega to bond with you,_ well, nobody has to know but him. 

*

Since putting a lot of his modelling work on hold, Harry’s been spending most days working with the property investment project he’s been involved in in East London, where the plan is to turn some old dilapidated housing into some premium apartments. 

It’s quite a fun experience to get involved in philanthropy, mostly because it’s something Harry never thought he’d be able to do. The money is unreal, the connections he’ll make are incredible, and it’s just quite exciting to do something that feels like he’s making a change to London, his favourite city in the world. 

Once this project is complete, he plans to take any money he makes and invest it into the city further and have this be an on-going project for as long as he’s making enough money to. 

He still wants to prioritise modelling jobs as and when he can though, so when he gets the opportunity of a lifetime through the same week that he was supposed to go and take some publicity photos for the apartments, they instantly get pushed to the back of his to-do list, because this changes _everything_. 

It’s a Tuesday evening and Harry’s been in a conference call about the London project all day, and he’d come out exhausted but blissfully to a huge plate of sausages and mash cooked by his beloved omega. They’d eaten their feast in front of an episode of _Game of Thrones_ because Louis had wanted to rewatch all the seasons from the start, but they’d gotten distracted and ended up snogging for the last fifteen minutes of the show. 

It’s right then his phone rings, so he reluctantly pulls away from Louis to answer it. 

It’s Niall, and when Harry answers it he barely gets a word out before Niall’s laughing so loud he has to move the phone away from his ear. 

“Ni?” he asks, chuckling himself, because Niall really does have the most infectious laugh in the world. “Everything alright?”

“Ha!” Niall’s still laughing but he manages to stammer out, “Oh my god, Harry. I have the fucking _funniest_ thing to tell you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry sits up straighter, his interest piqued. “Can I put you on speaker so Louis can hear?”

“Oh, hell yes,” Niall says gleefully. “He’s gonna want to hear this too.” 

Harry tugs Louis forward and under his arm and then taps the speaker button so Niall’s cackles fill the room. 

“Oi oi,” Louis calls in greeting, settling against Harry’s side. “What’s up, Nialler?”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Niall titters. “I just got off the phone with Suzy; do you remember her, H? From Tom Ford?”

“Um, yes,” Harry says slowly, already unsure about where this is going. Tom Ford is one of the campaigns he lost because of Oliver Rowe, so why are they contacting Niall?

“Well,” Niall pauses for dramatic effect. “She wants to know if you’d do a campaign for their new unisex fragrance next week. She apologises that it’s _very_ short notice, but the model they had booked fell over when he was drunk and broke his leg in four places. In fact, it’s such a severe break that he might need surgery.”

Harry and Louis glance at each other in disbelief and then both burst out laughing. “Oh my god,” Harry cries, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Has he actually? Oh my _god.”_

“Fucking karma,” Louis shouts, doubling over with laughter. “That’s what you fucking get for trying to mess with Harry Styles, stupid prick.”

Niall’s laugh rings loud and happy. “So you fancy taking the campaign then?”

“For Tom Ford?” Harry glances over at Louis again, who grabs his face and plants a loud, wet smooch to the corner of his mouth, which only serves to make him grin wider. “Hell fucking yeah.”

“Yeah?” Niall types away on his computer for a few seconds and moments later Harry gets an email notification through to his phone. “That’s the information about the shoot. It’s in LA and it’s next Thursday and Friday.” He goes back to typing. “Oh, Louis, do you want me to send them your normal rate card or do you want me to amend it a bit, hike up the price because it’s Tom Ford?”

“Huh?” Harry and Louis say at the same time. Louis frowns and slides his hand into Harry’s. “What do you mean, _my_ rate card?”

“Oh yeah, sorry, they want both of you,” Niall says like it isn’t a big deal. “It’s a unisex fragrance so they’re using two couples, you two and then two beta women. They want couples with real chemistry. Have you even opened the brief I just sent you, H?”

“You literally sent it thirty seconds ago,” Harry grumbles, but he scoops up his phone from the coffee table and opens the email as instructed. Sure enough, this brief talks about wanting an alpha and an omega couple and lays out some examples of the shots they want to take. “Wow, this is… this is something.”

Louis looks panicked. “I’m not a Tom Ford model,” he stammers out, then he audibly gulps. “I can’t stand next to you and pretend I’m a real model.”

“You are a real model, Louis,” Niall tells him. “Unless I’ve been cashing cheques for you for another secret profession of yours.”

Louis coughs nervously and Harry grips his hand tighter. Niall definitely only means that as a joke but Harry can sense it’s still a little raw for Louis, so he chimes in. “Baby, you _are_ a real model, and a fucking phenomenal one at that.”

Louis points a finger in his face, so close Harry goes cross-eyed. “Yes, but you have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Well, I need to give them an answer by the end of today so we can get travel arrangements booked,” Niall says. “Do you two wanna have a quick chat and let me know?”

Louis nods and scrubs a hand over his face, so Harry bids Niall goodbye and tosses his phone onto the other side of the sofa. 

“So.”

“So,” Louis says, licking his lips as they lock eyes. “This is quite something.”

“It is, isn't it?” Harry says. “Where’s your head at, darling?”

Louis takes a deep breath. “You want to do it,” he says, not a question. “And you think we should do it together. As a great big middle finger to Oliver Rowe, if nothing else.”

“It would be a great middle finger to that arsehole,” Harry agrees. “But I can also just as easily turn it down. If you’re not fully in it then neither am I.”

Louis doesn’t say anything for a few moments, messing with the rings on Harry’s fingers. 

“It would mean us going public, like, officially.”

“Oh, shit,” Harry says dumbly. They’ve been doing so much together lately that he’d almost forgotten that they’ve never put a label on it to the public. To him, he doesn’t feel like they really need to anymore, but it’s always been a bigger deal to Louis. “Are you… comfortable with that?”

“I’d have to be, wouldn’t I?” Louis shrugs, looking down at his lap. “I mean, I guess it would be easier to come out as Harry Styles’s former rentboy boyfriend if it goes alongside a worldwide Tom Ford campaign, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, kissing the top of Louis’s head. “It would. In fact, I’d say doing it that way makes you pretty untouchable.”

Louis snorts a humourless laugh. “Babe, I don’t think anyone is untouchable when it comes to the tabloids.” He leans into Harry’s side again, tucking himself into him like he always does when he’s feeling vulnerable. “But I don’t know. I guess we’re going to have to accept that there’s going to be some backlash about… you know. It’s going to happen regardless.”

“It might do,” Harry muses. “But I don’t care. I mean, I care if they’re talking shit about you, obviously.”

“Which they will,” Louis says flatly. 

“But I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you safe and I’m not gonna pander to it,” Harry says. “I’ve said it a hundred thousand times and I’ll keep saying it until I’m blue in the face. You offered me a service that’s entirely commonplace and legal, and I hired you to use that service, yes. We were both consenting adults and we both made the decision to put the whole service thing aside and enter into a happy, serious relationship. I’m not embarrassed of you and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with you, so I’m not going to pretend you don’t exist.”

Louis sighs, looking resigned. “I know all that,” he mumbles. “Urgh,” he groans, butting his head off Harry’s shoulder dramatically. “I just… okay. Let’s do it. Let’s come out together and do a global campaign for Tom fucking Ford. Let’s do it.”

Harry’s jaw hurts with how big and wide his grin goes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods. His voice isn’t entirely level and he’s squeezing Harry’s hands rather painfully but his eyes are fierce and determined. “It’s got to happen at some point, like you say. So fuck it.”

“Fuck it,” Harry repeats, taking Louis’s face in his hands. “Let’s do it. Let’s go and get the shit kicked out of us by love.”

Louis slaps him on the leg. “Don’t fucking quote _Love Actually_ at a time like this, you prick.” Then he ducks forwards and kisses him, stroking his thumb over Harry’s cheek as they both smile into it. “Urgh, I can’t believe we’re gonna go public.”

“I hate to break it to you but we’re already kind of public,” Harry points out. Just last week they’d been papped while shopping in Harrods for some new bedding to replace the ones they’d ruined during Louis’s heat, then papped again in a restaurant in Chelsea for Liam and Zayn’s anniversary party later that same day. 

Louis pinches him this time. “Yes, _but,”_ he drawls. “If it’s not official I can pretend that the Daily Mail aren’t writing articles about us trying to figure out if we’re just fucking or not.”

“We’re doing more than fucking, my darling,” Harry coos. “And like I said, we’re not exactly being subtle anymore. At this point, enough pictures of us are out and about on the internet.”

Louis sighs. “Realistically I know you’re right,” he admits. “But it’s just… the actual doing it feels a lot bigger than just talking about it. And we’ve done a hell of a lot of talking about it at this point.”

“True,” Harry nods. “And I’ll always remind you it’s up to you. We don’t have to do it.”

“Shut up, Harry,” Louis snaps. “Of course we’re going to do it. It’s Tom fucking Ford.” He clears his throat. “I’ve weighed up the pros and cons, like, I’ve been thinking this for a while. I knew it was inevitable that this would come about at some point and to me, they seem to be like this. The pros are that we get to do a campaign together, a campaign that’ll definitely do wonders for my modelling portfolio if it’s something I choose to pursue. Plus, I’ll stop feeling so anxious about when people find out… you know.” 

Harry snorts. “And what are the cons?”

“That people find out that you’re dating a former prostitute, people say I’m not good enough for you, the Daily Mail writes shitty articles about me.” Louis ticks the points off on his fingers. “They could find my family, my sisters, and trash talk them. And then there’s the whole thing about the rest of my extended family finding out before I can tell them myself.”

All valid points, Harry reasons. “But are the pros winning?”

Louis shrugs. “I’m 26 years old and I’ve lived a lie my whole adult life. Or I’ve been ashamed and embarrassed and…” He shrugs again. “I just don’t want to be like that anymore. I want to be _me._ And I want to be me with you.”

“I love you,” Harry assures him, kissing his temple. “We can work with Niall and my team, you know. Like we won’t just send out the press release, the media team will be on stand-by and my lawyers will issue cease and desists if they need to. I’m not going to have anyone defaming our relationship and talking about it like it’s something it isn’t.”

“I love you too,” Louis says, then spins around and climbs into Harry’s lap where he lets himself just be held. “But you can tell Niall yes. Do it now before I chicken out.”

Harry nods and keeps him cuddled in close to him as he calls Niall back and explains everything they just discussed. Niall cheers them on and tells them not to worry, that he’ll arrange a meeting with Harry’s PR team next week to work on a press release formally announcing the pair, and that all other arrangements for travel and the photoshoot will be sorted by tomorrow. 

“Consider it done,” he says proudly. “Oh, and Louis? I know you’re there too so I just wanna say well bloody done, mate. I’ll update your rate card and email it to you in the morning to check over, is that alright?”

Louis nods and murmurs a _thank you_ back. Harry says his own goodbyes and then hangs up, then scoops Louis up in his arms and takes him to the bedroom and shows him just how proud he is and how much he loves him. 

The next couple of days are busy but brilliant. They get a press statement drafted, announcement pieces for their campaign shoot, and a media plan for them going public. Louis looks like a fish out of water in all the meetings they go in, never leaving Harry’s side, but whenever Harry checks in with him he assure him he’s okay. 

“No, it’s the right thing to do. I get to be myself _and_ have you by my side,” he tells him, squeezing his hand. “What have I got to be worried about, right?”

Harry smiles and kisses his hand. He has to admit, this feels like the beginning of something very exciting and wonderful. Something very exciting and wonderful indeed. 

*

Given that their entire relationship has moved faster than most, it’s almost comical that they choose to bond on a random Wednesday afternoon. There’s a load of laundry in the washing machine, their Waitrose food delivery hasn’t long been put away, and they’ve spent the morning building Louis a flat-pack desk for his new office space. 

It’s a very domestic kind of weekday and exactly the kind of thing Harry likes to spend his days off doing. Domestic and productive at the same time and all that. 

“Darling?” he calls from the kitchen. “Have you seen the instructions for the desk so I can put them in that box in my office?”

“I already filed them,” Louis shouts back. His cheeky little face appears in the doorway. “And yes, I made sure it was in the correct folder and _yes_ , I made sure the box was put neatly back in the cupboard, you control freak.”

“Thank you, my sweet,” Harry coos. “Oh, did you text Zayn and Liam and ask if they want to do Saturday night for dinner?”

“Texted, arranged and table booked,” Louis sing-songs. “And yes, I just took down all the recycling to the bins and I put the first load of laundry away _and_ I hung up all those jumpers on the special wool hangers. It’s all sorted, baby.”

Harry beams at him. “I am so fucking proud.”

“Ow, _fuck,”_ Louis hisses suddenly, hands flying to clutch at his lower back. Harry’s on his feet in less than a second. “Ow, that _hurts.”_

“What’s wrong?” Harry flaps, striding over quickly. He hadn’t seen Louis hurt himself but he’s now doubling over, face pulled into a wince, and his heart _lurches_. “What’s hurting, baby?”

“It’s my back,” Louis whines. “It really hurts from the weight of me being the one whose carrying our whole relationship.”

“It… huh?” Harry blinks at him as Louis’s face breaks out into an enormous cheeky grin, then he straightens up and waves his middle finger in Harry’s face. “You little fucking shit, _Jesus.”_

Louis bursts out laughing and pulls Harry into his arms. Harry pretends to bat him away for a second but then he gets a better idea and scoops Louis up into his arms, tossing him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. 

“Put me down!” Louis shouts, his legs kicking out behind him wildly. “Fucking big alpha brute, put me _down.”_

“You scared me, you little bastard,” Harry chortles, carrying Louis down the hall and into their bedroom, where he tosses him down and then scrabbles over him, boxing him in. “I was about to call an ambulance or some shit.”

“Fucking alpha brute,” Louis says again, but he’s giggling as he wraps his arms around Harry’s neck. “I’m hilarious, aren’t I?”

“You’re _something_ ,” Harry grumbles, but he can’t stay playing stoic for very long. He leans down and kisses Louis slowly, languidly, taking control of the omega in his arms with practiced ease. Louis goes completely pliant in his hold as Harry reaches down and moves his legs up so Louis can wrap them around his back. Then he slides his hands up, being sure to touch as much of Louis’s body as he can, before he moves to pin Louis’s arms above his head, so he’s completely at Harry’s mercy. Louis breaks the kiss with a breathy gasp. 

“Don’t like that I’m the funny one, huh? Gotta get one up on me somehow, is that what this is?”

“You’re the funny one _and_ the one who carries our relationship?” Harry asks, one brow raised. “What does that make me?”

“The alpha brute,” Louis says, then squeals as Harry squeezes at his wrists. “The rich one. The big dicked one.”

“You’ll never be dicked by me again if you don’t start being nicer,” Harry grumbles. “Not sure how well you’d do with a life of celibacy.”

“I’d certainly be grumpier,” Louis says solemnly. “And whinier too. I _do_ like it when you put a dick in my mouth to keep me quiet though.”

Harry squeaks as Louis laughs and pulls him down for a snog. 

“I like it when you get embarrassed about sex,” he grins against Harry’s lips. “S’cute.”

“ _You’re_ cute,” Harry hums, kissing him once on the nose, then again on the mouth. “Fucking cute little dickhead omega that I love so much.”

“Fuck,” Louis says lightly as Harry noses at his bonding spot. “I love you too.”

“Soon,” he murmurs, licking at the spot before he presses a long, wet kiss to it. Louis lets out a breathy moan and Harry doesn’t take his eyes off him as his back arches slightly at the touch. 

“Soon,” he repeats, sounding dopey and happy in a way that makes Harry feel drunk with it. Drunk on Louis, drunk on love, drunk on this feeling of excitement that they’re going to _bond…_

“Although…” Harry starts, then pauses for a second.

_Is this too soon? Is this too soon? Is this too soon?_

Louis cracks open one eye. “Although?”

“Is it too soon?” Harry asks, then bites his lip. “To bond or to discuss bonding?”

Louis pauses, frowning, but he shakes his head. “How long have we been together now? Five months?” Harry nods. “And in that time we’ve met, realised that we’re soulmates, I’ve quit my job and we’ve moved in together, then I’ve found a new job that works alongside yours, got on a doctoral programme, and we’re about to do our first campaign that will be used globally and will immortalise our relationship forever. I’d say we’re solid enough to talk about bonding.” He pats Harry’s cheek and shrugs against the pillows. “I know it’s soon, like, objectively but we _are_ soulmates. I don’t think there’s a question about _whether_ we’re going to bond so much as _when_.”

“Okay,” Harry nods, feeling instantly better. He takes a deep breath, letting Louis’s gorgeous, happy scent wash over him. He can smell the excitement on him, the happiness and contentment and _love,_ so he snuggles down next to him on the bed. “Do you think you’d want to think about bonding with me in the near future?”

He kind of stammers the question because he can’t help but be nervous about this, but on a realistic level this is Louis and he knows he doesn’t have to be. 

Louis rolls onto his side and rests his hand on Harry’s chest, just below where the bond mark would be on him. Harry takes a deep breath and covers his hand. 

“I think I want you to be in my life forever, yeah,” Louis says softly. 

“In your life, in your arms, in your heart, in your arse,” Harry mumbles, dipping forward to kiss Louis again. “I’ll take all of the above, if you’ll let me.”

“Of course you would, you filthy boy,” Louis says with a shake of his head. “Fuck, you’re such a charming geezer, aren’t you, stud?”

“Are you going to call me stud even when we’re bonded and married and stuff?”

“I’m going to call you it every day for the rest of our lives,” Louis grins. “I know how much you love it.”

Harry kind of loves and hates the nickname in equal measure—it reminds him of a time when they were just fucking, but it’s become something so uniquely _them_ that he can’t help but feel warm when Louis calls him it—but he’s not going to tell Louis that today. He just kisses him instead, licking into his mouth and clutching possessively at the back of his neck. 

“I love _you_ and if you want me to be your stud forever, then I fucking will.” 

“Charming geezer,” Louis grumbles, but he’s grinning. “Do you want to have sex with me now?”

“I always want to have sex with you,” Harry answers honestly, leaning back so he can pull his sweater over his head. May as well get the ball rolling. “Wanting to have sex with you is a given.” He leans down so he can nip at Louis’s jaw, taking a deep inhale of his scent before he asks the question that will change everything. “I’m asking if you want to bond with me now.”

Louis pulls back and gapes at him. “Bond now? Right here, right now?”

“Right here, right now,” Harry repeats. His heart is beating like a drum. “We’re going to do it soon anyway, right? So I just…” He leans down and pecks Louis gently on the lips, just once. “I want you forever, Louis. And I’ll wait as long as you want me to, but I know you’re it for me. You’re absolutely it.”

“Well, fuck.” Louis’s eyes are damp, his bottom lip trembling. “I want you forever too, stud.” He locks his fingers around the back of Harry’s neck. “Are you sure?”

“Without a doubt,” Harry mumbles against his lips. The surest thing he knows is that being here in Louis’s arms is where he wants to spend the rest of his life. “I love you more than anything, Lou, anything.”

“Me too,” Louis hiccups, his smile wide and brilliant and beautiful. “I love you more than I thought it was possible to love someone, but I really do, Harry.”

Harry feels a bit teary-eyed. “God, you’re so special. I can’t wait to make you mine, keep you forever.”

“God, you better fucking knot me right now,” Louis moans, tucking his face into Harry’s neck. 

“It’s going to be over very fast,” Harry warns with a soft grin, brushing some of the hair from Louis’s eyes. “I’ll probably pop a knot the second I get inside you, the way I’m feeling right now.”

Louis snorts. “Guess we’ll just have to have sex until you go through with your promises then.”

Harry chuckles and slides his hand down to the waistband of Louis’s joggers . “You getting wet for me, are you?”

“No,” Louis deadpans. “You’ve just said we’re gonna bond tonight so I’m dry as a bone.” He slaps Harry’s chest. “Of _course_ I’m wet, dickhead.”

Harry leans back and makes quick work of shoving Louis’s joggers and pants down his legs, then pulls his T-shirt off next. “Can I touch you?”

“Harry, you ask the stupidest questions,” Louis says dryly, but his grin is wide and brilliant. “God, I can’t believe I’m about to bond with you.”

“Gotta make sure you’re ready, baby,” Harry sing-songs, shifting them enough to tuck just the tip of one finger inside Louis’s wet entrance. Louis moans and his grip on Harry’s neck tightens. “That’s why you’re about to bond with me. Nobody looks after you like I do.”

“True,” Louis says, then pulls Harry down for another deep kiss. “You’re so good to me.” Then he taps Harry’s cheek. “I just love you so much, Harry. And I know I make stupid jokes and take the piss all the time, but I mean it when I say I can’t believe you love me as much as I love you.” Harry’s about to say something equally sappy back, but then Louis speaks again. “Please do something with that finger though.”

Harry chuckles and slides it out, then reluctantly pulls out of Louis’s arms so he can make quick work of removing his clothing. “I love you so much,” he murmurs, shifting back and between Louis’s legs so he can take Louis’s ankles in hand. “More than anything in this whole world, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “Yeah, I know.”

 _I know_ somehow feels bigger and better than _I love you too._ Harry grins and kisses Louis’s ankle. “I’m going to take care of you now, okay?”

Louis nods and whimpers as Harry tugs him down the mattress and pushes his legs up, almost folding him in half in a bid to get to his entrance, spreading him wide and open. Louis’s rim is slick and his scent is sharp, the only thing Harry can smell in the room, and he buries his face straight into him. 

Louis throws his head back and his back starts to arch off the bed, but Harry’s grip is firm on each of Louis’s legs, keeping him open so he can get his tongue and mouth inside, using practiced motions to work him open. Louis’s body submits to him easily and he sinks into the mattress, moaning breathily, one hand curling into Harry’s hair and the other hovering over his hard prick, just lightly. 

“Oh my god, yes, _yes, Harry…”_

He’s been obsessed with eating Louis out from the start of their relationship because he’s so responsive and loud, and it’s all for Harry. He feels like he gets just as much pleasure as Louis does sometimes, because Louis is the most responsive partner he’s ever had and it does a lot of good for his alpha ego. 

After a few more minutes of licking and probing, making sure the omega is as open as he can be from just Harry’s tongue, he lets go of Louis’s legs and manoeuvres him back up the bed, then tucks a finger back inside him. 

“Baby,” he moans, mouthing at his red thigh. “Can you reach the lube in the drawer?”

Louis frowns. “Am I not wet enough?”

“You’re plenty wet, but I’m not gonna be too careful,” Harry hums, sinking his teeth into the meat of his thigh, making him gasp and moan. “My knot is big though, and what if it gets bigger or it hurts more because I’m caught up in the bonding or…”

Louis tugs on a loose strand from his fringe and pouts at him until he crawls up his body and gives him a kiss. 

“Harry,” he says firmly, using his free hand to cup his cheek. He gives him several deep kisses. “I love you, yeah? I trust you not to hurt me. Like you said, nobody takes care of me like you do.”

“Yes, but…” Harry’s starting to fret. He’s already going to hurt Louis by biting him, he can’t risk hurting his most sensitive, private area too. “ _God._ I don’t know why I’m suddenly so nervous.”

“No, I don’t either.” Louis uses the hand not cupping his face to flick him on the forehead. “Are you stalling, by any chance?”

“And why would I be stalling?” Harry asks, curling the fingers still tucked inside Louis towards his prostate, which makes him stutter out a moan. 

“‘Cos you love me and I make you nervous,” he replies cheekily, nudging their noses together and gasping again as Harry presses his fingers up once more. “You don’t want to hurt me, I know. But I want this, babe. Want you so much.”

“Yeah?” Harry murmurs, shaking his head. He’s annoyed at himself because the last thing he wants is for Louis to think he’s having second thoughts or that this is too soon. He is genuinely just worried about hurting him, but somehow Louis always knows what he needs to hear. 

“Yeah,” Louis echoes, stroking away with worry lines on Harry’s face with his thumbs. “I want to be yours, Harry.” He chuckles wetly. “Have you even looked up what happens to my body when we start to bond?”

Harry grins sheepishly; no, he hasn’t. “This isn’t very sexy of me right now, is it?”

Louis giggles and shakes his head. “Fuck no. But it’s very _Harry,_ so I’m loving every minute.” He kisses him again. “Apparently I’ll barely feel it, you know. Our souls are already mates and because we’re both connected and consenting and in love and all that shit, my bonding pheromone becomes active when your knot is inside me. So even though I might bleed and scream and whatever, it’s only because my body is in love with you.”

Harry snorts wetly. “Well, now I feel better.”

Louis grins and feels around on the mattress for the abandoned bottle of lube. “I’m glad. Now could you please put your dick in me and make me yours forever?”

Harry kisses him soundly. “Yes, my darling. Your wish is my command.”

To punctuate his point, he tucks another finger inside Louis awkwardly, then takes the bottle of lube from Louis and _snicks_ it open. He applies a generous squirt of the liquid directly to Louis’s hole and uses his thumb and pinky fingers to awkwardly spread it around.

Looking at Louis like this, impaled on his fingers and entirely at his mercy, he feels even more protective than he ever has before. His heart is so full and as he looks down at the omega in front of him, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide and full of love, and his lips parted and letting out the most gorgeous breathy moans, he’s never been so sure of anything in his life. 

He spends a few more minutes making sure that Louis is adequately stretched and then pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the bed sheets before clambering up Louis’s body again, where he presses a gentle kiss into the spot on Louis’s chest. 

“You ready?”

Louis takes his face in his hands and rests their foreheads together. “Listen, knothead. I’ve been ready since you called me back here after your rut five months ago. _Please_ put your fat knot in my arse.”

Harry grins and kisses Louis languidly, then moves back on his knees so he can take his aching prick in hand. It hasn’t had any attention yet and he gives it a few dry tugs before he presses it to Louis’s waiting entrance. He rubs up and down a few times before he leans forward, grinning as Louis winds his arms around his neck, and then he presses all the way in. 

Louis’s body surrenders to him easily and his mouth drops open, hanging there as Harry bottoms out. Harry kisses his slack mouth and gives him a few moments to adjust. 

“We’re gonna be mates,” Louis moans, wincing as Harry shifts them up a bit so his head is resting on the pillows. “Oh fuck, _Harry.”_

“How do you want it?” Harry grunts. “Slow and deep, or a bit faster to start?”

“Want you to make love to me,” Louis gasps, then swears as Harry starts to nose at his bonding spot again. “Harry, _please.”_

He moves back and then shoves back in, but they keep the pace slow as Louis rocks up to meet Harry’s gentle thrusts. They keep kissing and their arms are tight around each other as they move together, barely a hint of skin between them not being touched by their partner. Harry’s pleasure-addled mind almost wonders if it’s possible for their two bodies to fuse entirely together because that’s how it feels right now. They’re two beings that are on the way to becoming one, bonded together for the rest of their lives. 

It’s like they were made for each other, the way their bodies meld together and Louis just _takes_ Harry’s cock. His hole clenches around him every time he pulls back, like he wants to keep him inside forever, and in a few moments it’ll be like that.

Bonded. Together for the rest of their lives. _Forever._

He can feel that familiar heat pool in his belly, like a coil wound tight, and his balls start to ache, ready for his knot to pop.

“S’nearly time,” Harry murmurs. He presses closer, grabbing one of Louis’s legs and lifting their bodies up so he can rest his balls against Louis’s hole in preparation. 

Louis nods, just once, grinning shyly, almost, then tilts his head to the right so Harry has full access to where he needs it. “I’m ready when you are, stud.”

He looks and feels and smells _incredible,_ and Harry can’t wait for the rest of his life with him. He thrusts up and in a couple more times before his knot begins to swell and he starts to mouth at the spot, getting it ready and wet with spit. 

He lets out a low growl and shoves his knot past the tight ring of Louis’s hole, then bites down _hard_. He feels his teeth break the skin and he feels the bonding hormone flow out onto his tongue and up his nose as his entire reason for living becomes clear. Louis lets out a sound somewhere between a scream and a gasp and his fingers dig into Harry’s skin, but Harry barely feels it. 

He’s mated. They’re mated, bonded, _united._

Louis is the reason he’s alive and his reason to live, the centre of his fucking universe, and he trembles and sobs as he comes and topples forward into Louis’s arms, who clutches him to his chest and cries into his shoulder as Harry rides his orgasm out. He’s clenching around Harry’s knot so tightly it feels like he’s coming as well, and as he starts to shift so he’s not crushing Louis under his body weight, he feels the sticky wetness of Louis’s jizz between their bellies. 

They’re both crying as they pull back and stare into his other’s eyes, tears pouring down their cheeks and both of them a little lost for words. It’s not easy to know what to say, but Harry kind of thinks their actions speak for themselves. 

They’re fucking _mated._

“I love you,” Louis whispers eventually, cradling Harry’s head into his other shoulder, fingers running through his sweaty hair. Harry plants a wet kiss onto his jaw and says it back. “I love you so much. My _alpha.”_

Harry cries even harder. It’s probably not very alpha to sob into your new mate’s shoulder right after bonding, but Harry can’t bring himself to care. This is the happiest he’s ever felt in his entire _life_. 

“My omega,” he croaks. “My wonderful, incredible, life changing darling omega. God, I adore you. I _treasure_ you.”

Louis grins wetly and drags their lips together. “Me too. I’ve never felt so, like, happy. I’m so happy, Harry.”

Harry beams and then his body jerks as more come shoots out of him in short spurts. “ _Ah._ Fuck. I have a feeling we’re going to be joined like this for a while.”

“Forever, I’ve heard,” Louis chuckles. “Well, look. I’m not gonna lie to you, darling, I’m fucking knackered.”

Harry is also shattered, but he doesn’t want to close his eyes and sleep just yet, mostly because he doesn’t want to take his eyes off the fresh bond mark on Louis’s chest. “Me too,” he admits, then he yawns. “It’s a good thing we don’t have anywhere to be for the next few days, isn’t it?”

“What a perfect spontaneous time to bond, eh?” Louis hums happily. “Do you wanna have a sleep while your knot goes down and order late night pizza then?”

Realistically Harry knows it’s like 4pm, they're both absolutely disgusting and they’re going to make a mess of the bed when his knot goes down, and he’s got chicken marinating in the fridge for their dinner. 

Is he going to tell Louis no? Absolutely not. 

“Sounds great, my darling,” he says, wincing as he tries to move them into a more comfortable position to sleep in. Louis hisses when his knot catches on his rim. “Shit, sorry. Here, can you lift your leg, maybe?”

They eventually find a comfortable position, with Louis’s leg draped over Harry’s thigh so he’s not crushing his knot and they can both lie on their sides. 

“I love you, omega,” Harry whispers. 

“I love you so much, alpha,” Louis whispers back. 

They snuggle together and share a few sweet, gentle kisses, before Louis tucks his face into Harry’s chest and drifts off in his arms. Harry smiles into his hair, takes a deep inhale of his scent, and follows right alongside him. 

*

Being on a photoshoot with Louis is the most fun he’s ever had on one. 

It’s quite a unique experience to be on a photoshoot with your boyfriend. Harry’s done plenty of campaigns in his time and they’ve spanned from Calvin Klein in skin-tight underwear to wearing a dress on the cover of Vogue. He’s been in shoots where he’s had twenty omegas clamouring over him and he’s also had times where he’s been fighting for the spotlight amongst a group of other alphas. 

But being with Louis is _fun._

Harry hasn’t been allowed to accompany Louis to any photoshoots yet because he still insists that Harry will throw him off, so going into it he wasn’t really sure what to expect of him. 

Louis doesn’t take himself too seriously outside of the studio, but when he’s got a job to do he’s nothing but professional, dedicated and hard-working and that’s exactly how he comes across at the beginning of the day when they make their introductions. It’s no wonder that he’s in such high demand when he’s gorgeous _and_ polite, cheeky and hardworking. 

Being on set with Louis is great because he doesn’t have to act any different than normal. There’s no awkwardness and apprehension between them, obviously, and the chemistry between them is completely natural and perfectly crafted, which is obviously what the creative directors were looking for. From the moment they have their group discussions with Tom Ford’s assistant and his photography team up until they’re through hair and makeup and ready to start, Harry already can’t wait to see the final shots. He has a feeling they’re going to be a new favourite in his portfolio. 

They’re both dressed in nothing but nude boxer briefs to give the illusion that they’re both naked, and the idea for the ad campaign is that they’re going to be kissing and holding one another, locked in passionate embraces that truly embody the bond they have with one another. 

It’s a unique shoot in that Harry’s never done anything like this with another omega before (the one photo that nearly caused his relationship to end doesn’t count), let alone with someone he actually feels comfortable holding, so he’s quite looking forward to it already. 

But Louis, who always has a way with words, has other opinions. 

“Those shorts make your dick look small and it’s throwing me off.”

Harry flicks him on the bond mark for that, which makes Louis hiss and swear at him loudly. “Oi, dickhead,” he yells. “Bonds can be broken, you know.”

“He’s joking,” Harry says to the alarmed looking makeup artist who’s just appeared behind them. “He’s joking. He loves him very much.”

“Liar,” Louis hisses, then stamps on his toe. It doesn’t really feel like anything because he’s not wearing shoes. “I’m only with you for the money.”

“He is joking,” Harry tells the makeup artist again, who just shakes her head like she’s not getting involved, then pulls out a big powder brush from his brush belt and starts buffing it over his face. 

“I’m not joking,” Louis says loudly, then stalks off towards his own makeup artist. Harry watches him go a little mournfully and then sighs, turning his full attention to his makeup artist. He thinks her name is Annie. “Are you mated?”

“No,” she replies flatly. “Can’t imagine anything worse.” 

“It’s usually pretty great,” he insists, but he doesn’t really get much of an answer before she shuffles off. 

Oh well. Her loss, he thinks. Being bonded is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

“Hey, fuckhead,” his mate calls from across the room. “Do you want a bottle of water?”

“Yes please, darling,” he shouts back, voice overly sweet. “Coming now.”

He skips over and takes the bottle of water, then presses a wet kiss into Louis’s hair. He tastes like hairspray. “I think people on the set are starting to think you hate me.”

Louis shrugs as he takes a swig from his water bottle. “It’s not my fault I’m metaphysically connected to an annoying alpha meathead.”

“You flatter me,” Harry says dryly, taking a hefty swig from his bottle. “On a real caring boyfriend level though, are you okay?”

Louis snorts. “I’m fine, darling,” he titters, tilting his head for a quick kiss. “I’m just cold and a little nervous about it all still. But it’s good, I’m all good.”

Harry kisses him again. “Good.”

“Alright, save the kisses for the camera, lads,” Niall calls from the sidelines. “Don’t waste all the good content because you’re horny buggers.”

“Niall, my sweet,” Louis coos. “Harry and I will _alway_ s have good content to give the cameras. We’re the fittest couple in the world and people will be lucky to see us in any capacity.”

“Damn straight,” Harry agrees as Niall roars with laughter. “Fittest couple in the world is exactly how I’d describe us.”

And he might be biased, but the photos that arrive in his inbox three days later do nothing other than absolutely solidify that. They look fucking drop dead gorgeous in every single picture, from their solo shots where they’re just holding the bottle of fragrance to their couple shots where they’re doing everything from holding each other, snogging exaggeratedly or simply posing together. 

“Louis,” he yells; his omega is in his own office and he tends to keep the door shut so he can listen to music, but he wants him to see them as soon as possible so he can feel the same amount of pride that Harry currently does. “Louis, I’ve got the pictures from the shoot.”

He hears Louis’s door click open and then his soft little footsteps pad down the hall and towards his office, then his head appears. “Babe?”

“Come here,” Harry gestures. “The photos from the shoot are here, look.”

Louis squeaks excitedly and toddles around the desk so he can see the computer screen. 

“They want us to select our top ten,” Harry explains. “And then they’ll select about six overall for the campaign shots. We’ve got over a hundred to look through though.”

“Fuck, we’re pretty hot together, aren’t we?” Louis notes, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “Look at that one. You’re looking at me like you want to eat me, for fuck’s sake.”

“I do want to eat you,” Harry says cheekily, then turns and nips at Louis’s jaw. “You’re so fucking fit, baby, like look at you here. _Gorgeous.”_

Louis giggles and moves so he’s curled up into Harry’s lap, one of Harry’s strong arms around his middle while he uses the other to scroll through the photos. “I almost look like a proper model in these. Look at that one!” He settles back against Harry’s chest smugly. “Yesterday, Adidas for JD Sports, and today, a global Tom Ford campaign with my soulmate. Not bad for a poor working class lad from Yorkshire, is it?”

“Definitely not,” Harry hums happily. “And I literally couldn’t be prouder. My fucking gorgeous superstar.”

Louis shrugs, but his smile is worth _everything. “_ Yeah, and you’re not so bad yourself, stud.”

Together they select their ten, send them back to the Tom Ford team, and then spend the rest of the afternoon making love between their overpriced sheets in their ridiculously large bed. 

Yeah, life couldn’t get much better than this. 

*

It’s a Friday morning when the press release goes out. They’re back from America and tucked away safe and happy in their penthouse apartment, with nowhere to be for the next few days so their plans involve doing not much more than catching up on their Netflix shows and having sex. 

The press statement reads as follows:

_Harry Styles is delighted to announce his engagement to his long-term Omega partner, Louis Tomlinson. The pair, who became bonded last month, are planning to get married in the spring in a small ceremony that includes friends and family._

_Harry is working on his third album and is currently dividing his time between the UK and Los Angeles to film_ Through the Dark, _a film that’s being directed by Christopher Nolan and co-stars Florence Pugh and Chris Pine. Louis is currently studying full-time for his PhD in Social Work._

_The pair met at the beginning of last year through an O-For-Hire service based in London. They’ve lived together for just under a year._

_Harry would like to share that he has never been happier, is grossly in love and yes, his third album is going to be all about his mate. He wants to thank his fans, friends and family for their consistent support and can’t wait for his third world tour—tickets will be on sale soon._

_ENDS_

“You divide your time between here and LA, do you?” Louis asks from where he’s tucked under Harry’s arm. They’re both lying on their stomachs on the bed, watching Twitter go a bit nuts at the announcement that Harry Styles is officially off the market and _bonded,_ no less. “When do I get to go to LA?”

“When we actually start filming,” Harry tells him, kissing him on the temple. There’s no way he’d divide his time between the UK and LA without Louis coming with him, and now they’re getting married it’ll be easier for them to do that without having to faff around with VISAs. “They don’t need to know that I’m only in the film for about twenty minutes.”

Louis snorts. “And yet you’re getting paid how much again?”

Harry nips at his shoulder. “Yes, alright. I know I’m overpaid.”

“I’d say you’re worth every penny,” Louis hums, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and rolling them over so he’s tucked underneath him, his favourite place to be and Harry’s favourite place for him to be. “But you know, I have to say that because I was so worth the money you ended up bonding with me.”

“Mmm, worth every penny and then some,” Harry says, ducking down to lick into Louis’s mouth. Sue him, Louis smells extra amazing today, though to be fair he’s smelt even better every single day they’ve been bonded. “Did you finish packing, by the way?”

“Yes,” Louis answers slowly, in a tone that sounds suspiciously like he’s lying. Harry cocks a brow. “Okay, _no,_ but…”

“Louis.”

“We still have two hours before we need to be at the airport,” Louis whines. “It probably won’t take me two hours.”

“You have one hour,” Harry corrects, then sighs dramatically. “Do you even know where your passport is?”

(Harry has Louis’s passport safely tucked next to his in his carry on bag, but it’s fun to watch his fiancé squirm and pretend he’s already packed it himself.)

Tonight, the two of them are flying to the Maldives. Niall booked them a resort that’s nice and isolated and has very few spots with wifi, which is perfect for them to unwind and evade the media storm that’s inevitably about to follow this press statement. 

Harry can’t _wait_. 

“Go and pack,” he instructs, jabbing Louis in the ribs. “I’m not asking the plane to wait for us again. Once was embarrassing enough.”

“I hate you,” Louis howls as he scampers into the bathroom, then starts making a lot of noise as he makes a show of packing up his things. 

“I love you too,” Harry yells back, then grins as he unlocks his phone and checks his Whatsapp. He already has about ten—from Zayn and Liam in their group chat, from Niall just checking in, then words of congratulations from loads of his friends, sending all kinds of encouraging, excitable and proud messages. Harry replies to every single one with an unwavering smile. He’s so unbelievably grateful for the people in his life. 

But especially for the omega who’s currently stomping around their shared bedroom, throwing clothes into their suitcase without even folding them and moaning that he shouldn’t even need clothes on a holiday like this. Harry’s especially grateful for him. 

Yeah, things are going to be great. Maybe even _fantastic._

*

Their first modelling campaign as a couple goes up on a billboard in Times Square. Tom Ford flies them out to New York and gifts them the best room in the Plaza for ten days, and throws a party in their honour for over five hundred guests. 

Harry flies their families out to join them, as well as Zayn and Liam and Niall and Hailee, and it’s quite possibly the best weeks of Harry’s life. 

All the while, Louis makes sure to wear low cut shirts to show off the fresh, almost-healed bond mark on his chest. 

And if he can’t wear an outfit that shows it off, well, he just waves the ring on his left hand around a bit more. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please come and shout at me on twitter @lesbidirection <3


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